An Introduction to Swirl and Daisy
by m81170
Summary: A first kiss, a first dance, a first curse word shared between best friends. This is the tale of a boring, young geek and the social pariah who thought the world of him. A tale of growing up. A tale of a Non-Romantic Romance.
1. The First Time She Met Him

**An Introduction to Swirl and Daisy: The Non-Romantic Romance**

Disclaimer: Any Twilight characters that may appear in this story belong to Stephenie Meyer. The remainder is my original work. No reproduction is allowed without my written consent.

_Chapter One: The First Time She Met Him_

**. . .**

The first time I met Edward Cullen I was twelve years old.

He was sitting in front of a computer in first period Yearbook class with a camera around his neck, furiously sorting through pictures on the monitor in front of him. I couldn't see much of him with his head bent down, but it was easy to assume that he wanted to be left alone based off his "vibe."

Renee had described to me exactly what a "vibe" was when I was five years old and had attempted to kiss Aiden Case for the first time. After being enrolled in ballet class – a misguided attempt by my mother to give me poise and equilibrium – and being laughed at daily for my tendency to fall down, I began clinging to Aiden like a life-vest. Every class he wore a pink tutu like the rest of us, with pink princess shoes that sparkled. I was so jealous of those shoes, and yes, I was a little in love with Aiden.

At the end of class, I would go over to Aiden's house and play Barbies with him. One afternoon, deciding it was time to take our relationship to the next level, I asked Aiden to marry me. We both wore dresses to the wedding – not exactly what I had imagined, but I had gotten him to the altar (or in this case the Barbie Dream House) and that was really all that mattered. We professed our love for one another and just as I was leaning in to kiss him, he scrunched up his nose and began crying.

Our parents found us in that condition, both of us crying because I wanted to kiss Aiden and Aiden didn't want to kiss me. Renee talked to me about reading the signals people gave out by their personality and body language, and apparently Aiden didn't give out the "vibe" that he liked girls in that way. This spawned a rather awkward conversation about what exactly "that way" was.

That was how I knew that the boy with bronze hair and the camera around his neck wanted to be left alone. I scanned the room to see what "vibe" the other students were giving out and then I spotted _them _– powdering their noses in front of their compact mirrors like I'd seen those women do in the Covergirl commercials.

There was one girl with short spiky hair layering foundation onto her skin and another with long blonde hair applying heavy lip-liner, a light shade of pink gloss already on her lips. The effect was… disenchanting but she seemed to be pleased with the way she looked because she snapped her compact mirror shut, slipped her make-up into her purse, and smiled confidently as she strode over to the boys sitting in the next row.

I felt awkward standing there in my plain grey t-shirt and jeans, my old purple backpack that I had carried over to Forks from Phoenix slung carelessly from my shoulder; I'd brought it for good luck, needing all that I could get, because apparently thirteen year old girls in Forks wore skirts that went to mid-thigh, carried purses, and donned two-inch high heels.

I was not getting a good "vibe" from those girls.

I didn't know where to sit exactly, since no one in the room seemed to be giving welcoming signals. I was the new girl, but I didn't think anyone even noticed I was there. Just as I thought that, the blonde girl turned her head to look at me with unreceptive ice-blue eyes. I quickly snapped my head in the other direction and determinately walked towards the boy with the camera around his neck.

He _had_ to be less intimidating than those other girls. I would take a standoffish, geek type over a frosty bitch (I mentally slapped my wrist for thinking the word "bitch") any day. I only hoped I looked half as confident as the girl with the blonde hair did when she walked up to those boys. It might have helped if I hadn't almost tripped on the leg of one of the computer desks.

I approached the boy, but didn't want to startle him – he was staring at the computer screen rather intently – so, I gave a quiet, "Hello."

No reaction. Apparently he hadn't heard me. I cleared my throat and tried again. "Hello."

He looked up, his eyes blinking furiously, as if he had a speck of dust in one of them. _Or_, I chided myself, _as if he had been staring at a computer screen for the last ten minutes and some rude girl had walked over and interrupted him. _

It was then that I realized what a huge mistake I had made by choosing to sit next to him rather than the Barbie doll in the mini-skirt. Because he _clearly_ was so much hotter than she was.

I meant he was cute. And he had nice green eyes. And awesome hair.

I was just about to turn around and walk back over to the girls when he asked in a whisper, "Are you talking to me?" The question in and of itself was a bit rude, but his tone suggested he was genuinely surprised.

"Um, may I sit next to you?" I asked.

He nodded, but his eyes registered genuine surprise. I walked to the other side of him and fell into the next seat, turned on my computer, distracted myself by reaching into my backpack for my notebook, and tried not to stare at his face. This was made infinitely harder because he was definitely staring at mine.

The login page of the computer popped up in front of me and, seeing as this was my first day, I decided it would be all right if I looked at him to ask him what the password was. This was also a mistake because when I finally turned my head to meet his eyes, all the words left my brain.

We stared at each other for a few moments, I'm sure my own eyes reflected the same bewilderment as his. I would say that I fell in love with him in those brief seconds. But adults were adamant that young people couldn't fall in love – I didn't know if I believed them.

He suddenly looked down and scrambled in his pocket before pulling out and handing me a card.

As in, _his_ card.

As in, his _business_ card.

Oh. My. God. How _old_ was he?

"Oh, my God, how old are you?" I internally cringed. I was glad to have some words back in my brain, but why were _those_ the words it decided to conjure up?

Fortunately, he didn't seem too bothered by my rude question. "My name is Edward Cullen, I'm thirteen years old. My home phone, beeper, and fax number are all on that card."

Wow, this guy was smooth_. How many other girls had this card in their backpacks (or purses)_?

"How many other girls have this card?" I blurted out and internally punched myself in the nose.

His cheeks reddened, and damn that was really cute. I internally slapped my wrist for thinking the word "damn."

"Um, I actually just had them printed up," he muttered. I internally let out a sigh, and then decided I was sick of doing everything internally and reached my hand out to shake his.

"My name is Bella Swan. I just moved here from Phoenix to live with my dad. I actually don't know my phone number. It's really nice to meet you, though." He nodded but seemed hesitant to reach out and shake my hand. I saw him covertly try and wipe his hand on his jeans, but it was still a little sweaty when he placed it in my own.

I couldn't bring myself to care, though, because I was actually holding hands with a boy. And by holding, I mean shaking, but really it was the same thing. And maybe it was just my imagination, but I think he held my hand longer than what was necessarily polite for the circumstance. And the heavens opened up and angels sang as I realized I had found my soul-mate. I was _meant_ to be with this boy.

Of course all of this was completely ruined by the next five words out of my mouth. "You aren't gay, are you?"

_Oh shit._ My hand immediately slapped over my mouth and I felt blood rush to my cheeks, closing my eyes in mortification as I internally beat myself to a pulp. I didn't even have it in me to mentally punish myself for thinking the word "shit."

What was _wrong_ with me? I mean, yeah, the last boy I had allowed myself to fall in love with gave off the gay "vibe," but Edward didn't! I cursed Aiden. I cursed Renee. I may have cursed God too, but I swear it was an accident!

I was just sitting there drowning in self-pity and humiliation. I couldn't look at Edward, knowing I'd only find disgust on his face. He'd never speak to me again. He'd think I was a diseased, social leper, and ask me to go sit somewhere else.

_But maybe I'm wrong. Maybe he actually found that funny and was thoroughly amused. Maybe if I look, I'll find humor and good-will on his face and then we'll have this amazing connection and we'll fall in love and get married and tell people about the first time we met and how humiliating and awkward that was…_

I chanced a peek from behind my fingers and died a little more inside when I realized my first instinct was correct. He hated me. He wasn't even looking at me anymore, back to sorting pictures on his computer. I turned away from him and blinked a few tears out of my eyes.

The teacher walked into class then and started calling roll. I tried to collect myself, doing my best not to look at Edward when she called his name. After she was finished she asked me to come up to talk to her while the rest of the class worked on their assignments.

Apparently I still looked flustered because the first thing she said was, "Do you need to go to the nurse's office; you look a bit peaky."

While at first escaping Edward seemed like an appealing prospect, I quickly realized that this would only bring further attention to me, so I decided against it. "No, I'm all right. I guess I'm just nervous about my first day of school," I said, hoping she wouldn't question me further or insist on me leaving.

"Well in that case, my name is Ms. Evans and I'm the Yearbook advisor. Everything is very casual in my class. Rosalie and Alice are chief editors." She nodded her head over to the two girls who had been applying a new face to their old one a few minutes ago. "You'll meet them and the rest of the class a little bit later.

"Most of the other people here have different sections of the yearbook that they are assigned to and put together pages for those. I allow everyone to work independently or in groups for most of the class and I go around and check on their progress, make sure they are all contributing, and staying focused."

I bobbed my head at the appropriate moments to let her know I was following her, though I couldn't help but think this class seemed more like a free period for socializing and flirting (aka, mating) over anything else.

"I'm afraid, however, that all of the positions for editors are filled up. I saw that you were sitting over with Edward, our photographer. Would you be interested in working as his assistant?"

I was torn – I loved to take pictures and (if I was being honest) I really wanted to spend more time with Edward, but he hated me now and that would probably put a damper on our interactions. I didn't want to make him uncomfortable by forcing him to work with me.

Leaning in a little closer to Ms. Evans, I whispered, "I'm not sure how good of an idea that is. I mean, I don't think he likes me."

To my surprise Ms. Evans let out a loud chuckle and smacked me on the back – _hard_. "Oh, Bella, he'll like you just fine. He's just shy. Go over and tell him the good news! He'll be happy to have some help."

I felt oddly… hopeful. I mean, it was the _teacher_ that was forcing us to work together. It wouldn't be my fault if he was uncomfortable. _Except for the fact that I asked if he was gay_, I corrected myself.

Ms. Evans handed me a sheet a paper, quickly explaining that it was a "how to" guide on working with the computers. Standing up a little straighter in an attempt to gather my confidence, I walked back over to Edward with my head held high, and managed not to trip on anything as I took my seat next to him.

I took a deep breath. "Ms. Evans told me that I'd be working with you as your assistant photographer."

Edward only acknowledged what I said with a silent nod.

Turning back to my computer dejectedly, I typed in the password that was written in the "how to" guide. I had begun to work through the instructions on the sheet about how to access the photos on the Network Data drive when an instant message popped up on my screen.

_COMP520072: This is Edward Cullen to Bella Swan._

My eyes widened and quickly flicked over to Edward who was still sorting through pictures as if nothing was happening. What was he up to?

_COMP520073: BS to EC. How do I no this is rly Edward?_

_COMP520072: Because the ID on this computer is the number right before yours._

_COMP520073: Oh._

_COMP520072: I would like to answer your question now._

_COMP520073: Wat question?_

_COMP520072: You asked if I was gay._

Heat flooded my cheeks once again. I had actually managed to forget about that little mishap during my excitement over Edward kind of talking to me.

_COMP520072: You look really pretty when you blush like that._

The slightest hue of pink was tinting his ears, but his face remained composed and steadfast on the screen as he continued typing.

_COMP520072: And no, I am not gay._

I could have sworn I saw him smirk.

**. . .**

**A/N**: Thanks to **acciodanrad9** and **xsecretxkeeperx** for being my _amazing_ betas and thank you for reading! Remember, flames are always welcome - they put a smile on my face. But happy and constructive reviews make sun shine out of my ass. -Insert Winking Emoticon-

Next Up..._ Chapter Two: The First Time They Danced_

M


	2. The First Time They Danced

**An Introduction to Swirl and Daisy: The Non-Romantic Romance**

Disclaimer: Any Twilight characters that may appear in this story belong to Stephenie Meyer. The remainder is my original work. No reproduction is allowed without my written consent.

**A/N: **Remember middle school? Remember the drama and the horrible text-speak? Just keep that in mind as you read Bella's internal monologue in this chapter.

_Chapter Two: The First Time They Danced_

**. . .**

_09/12/01_

_Dear Diary,_

_I, Bella Swan, on this day, the 12th of September, declare that I am in love with Edward Cullen. At least I think it's love. It's definitely more than a crush, though. All I know is that I dream about him, I think he is totally cute and handsome, and he has a very sexy voice (at least from what I've heard – he hardly ever _**really**_ talks and most of the time he's whispering)._

_You're the only person (thing) I can tell this to. I used to go to Renee for boy advice, since she has managed to marry two great guys (my dad and Phil); however, I called her the other night to talk to her about Edward and she said some really weird things to me. I was telling her about how Edward and I would just stare into each other's eyes for a few moments every day, and she laughed at me and told me that was called "sexual tension."_

_She explained to me that "sexual tension" is when two people are deeply attracted to each other but are too young or too stupid to do anything about it. My mouth practically fell open because she used the s-word (and by s-word I mean _**sex**_, not the other s-word)._

_She started talking about how she and Phil had so much chemistry and "sexual tension," but she was still married to my dad so they couldn't do anything about it. I honestly hate when Renee talks about how she left my dad when I was young. I mean, I love my mom with my whole heart, and I really like Phil, but I also love my dad._

_Speaking of love, Edward was wearing a baby blue shirt yesterday with jeans. And then last night I had a dream that he snuck into my room and he was still wearing those clothes. I woke up and asked who it was, and Edward said he thought I was cute and hot and that he wanted to kiss me, and I was going to let him. Then I woke up._

_This isn't the first time I've dreamed of him. There was another dream that my father and I went sailing and he came with us. And there was one about him talking to me and he said that he liked me. Never in my dreams have we ever actually kissed, though. Do you think that's a good or bad sign? What if it's just a sign telling me I'm crushing really badly on him?_

_I know I've only known him for like a week, but I really feel as if I_ KNOW_ him. And I think he may like me, too! The reasons why I think so are listed below:_

_-He told me I was pretty when I blushed_

_-He talks to me (well, mostly sends instant messages in class) even though I asked him if he was gay_

_-He gave me his card (and apparently I'm the only one)_

_-He looks at me A LOT_

_-He doesn't really talk to anyone else (that I know of)_

_-He didn't object to me being his assistant photographer_

_-He asked me to the dance tomorrow night! _

_Well, he sort of asked me to the dance tomorrow night because, since I'm his assistant photographer, I have to help him take pictures. So, we won't actually be dancing, but I'll be spending the entire night with him! _

_And what makes it even better is that tomorrow is my birthday. I can already tell that it is going to be the best day of my life. I can just kind of feel it; Renee always tells me to listen to my heart and feel things._

_I have to go to bed now. I need to make sure I look really good tomorrow night. I'm not sure what I'm going to wear, but I'm definitely not going to look skanky like Rosalie, Alice, and the rest of their little clique. It's disgusting how much lipstick they wear. If I ever kiss Edward I want to actually be able to feel his lips on mine._

_Edward… he is the boy of my dreams. My prince charming._

_g2g,_

_Bella Swan_

_P.S. I can't believe I'm going to be thirteen when I wake up tomorrow morning!_

**. . .**

_COMP520072: This is Edward Cullen to Bella Swan._

I couldn't help the smile that spread over my face when he typed those words. Edward was perfect. I still didn't really understand why he liked to IM me instead of just talking to me, since I was sitting right next to him but I wasn't going to complain; any type of contact with Edward was good contact.

_COMP520073: This is BS to EC. Wats up?_

_COMP520072: Nothing much._

_COMP520072: You?_

_COMP520073: just chattin with u and lookin through photos_

_COMP520072: Cool._

_COMP520073: yeah _

_COMP520072: Yup._

_COMP520073: um hum_

_COMP520072: :-D _

_COMP520073: :-)_

_COMP520072: Cool face._

Oh. My. God. Did Edward Cullen just compliment my face? I felt the blood rush to my cheeks and my breathing start to accelerate. That is, until I realized he was complimenting the stupid smiley face in my IM.

_COMP520073: thank u. i think so too_._ urs is very nice too_

_COMP520072: Thanks._

_COMP520073: no prob_

_COMP520072: Be Right Back._

Edward walked over to the teacher, and I sighed inwardly as I tried to subtly check out his backside. Turning back to my computer, I couldn't help but feel giddy over how well our IM conversation was going… even if he was complimenting my smiley face instead of my actual face. What he didn't know was that when I said, "urs is very nice too," I was actually talking about how handsome he was in real life. It made me a little sad that he wouldn't know that.

I quickly wiped the smile off my face as Edward headed back over to our computers, trying to look as nonchalant as possible to hide my feelings for him. I wondered if he could ever possibly love me as much as I loved him.

_COMP520072: Bella, there's something I've been meaning to ask you over the last week. _

Oh. My. God. This was it. Edward Cullen was finally going to ask me out. I tried to get my breathing under control. I was a little disappointed that he was going to do it over IM instead of just asking me in person, but I would take whatever I could get.

_COMP520073: ok, wats up?_

_COMP520072: Do you know what BS even stands for?_

I blinked a few times at the computer. That was _so_ not the question I thought he was going to ask me.

_COMP520073: Um, yeah. I think it's kinda obvious that it stands 4 Bella Swan. _

I heard a quiet chuckle from beside me and my head snapped to find Edward's amused eyes staring at me.

"I mean, do you know what it _really_ stands for?" he quietly asked me.

My first instinct was to lie and tell him that of course I knew what it stood for; however, I'm a horrible liar and knew he would easily catch my falsehood.

I am also an idiot. "Of course, I know what it stands for, Edward. I'm not an idiot."

I'd never heard Edward laugh out loud before. It was beautiful. "Oh, really? So you know what it stands for, and yet you insist on using it synonymously with your name?"

I felt the heat rise up on my cheeks, and I quickly turned away from Edward. This wasn't a conversation I was hoping for on my thirteenth birthday. "What's it to you anyway?"

There was a small pause before Edward said, "I just like to see you blush."

My eyes lifted to his, and we sat there staring at each other for what felt like an infinite amount of time before Edward finally broke eye contact and went back to sorting pictures on his computer. I followed his example.

It was really fortunate timing, too, because Ms. Evans came strolling over to us to check on the progress we were making.

"Are the two of you ready to take pictures at the dance tonight?" she asked with a wide smile on her face.

Edward's face seemed to turn a little pink, and it appeared he had absolutely no intention of answering that question so I spoke up for him. "Yes, Ms. Evans. I'm pretty positive we have everything under control. We'll make sure to take a lot of pictures tonight."

"That's fantastic, but Bella, make sure you don't get stuck behind the camera the entire night," she said, before crossing the room back to her desk.

It seemed a little awkward between me and Edward as I turned back to my computer. Maybe Edward felt as awkward about the dance as I did (I could only hope).

It took me a few minutes to get back in the groove of sorting through the pictures of sporting events that Edward had taken earlier in the year. He seemed to be as focused as I was doing the task at hand, which is why it surprised me when another instant message popped up.

_COMP520072: My mom was wondering if you would like a ride with me to the dance. It just seems more practical that way since I have all the camera equipment and my parents are actually chaperoning the dance, so it wouldn't be a problem for them to swing by and pick you up. I completely understand if you would rather have your dad take you, so please do not feel obligated to accept my invitation._

I stared at the screen in shock; it was the most I had ever heard Edward say (or seen Edward type) since I had met him. He was rambling almost as if he was _nervous_. A thrill of excitement shot through me at the prospect of driving with Edward to the dance.

_It's almost like a real date!_ Except that his parents would be there. And he hadn't technically said the word date. But it really was the same thing if you thought about it.

I decided to play it cool with my response. I definitely didn't want to let on how excited I was for our sort-of date.

_COMP520073: cool. Wat time?_

_COMP520072: Is 6 PM too early? The dance starts at 6:30 and I want to get there a little early._

_COMP520073: nope, sounds perfect._

And it really and truly did.

**. . .**

By 6:01 that evening, I was sitting in the back seat of the Cullen's car mentally scolded myself for thinking that Edward's father was good looking. This was the boy I imagined spending the rest of my life with, which meant Mr. Cullen would be my father-in-law, my family, and I was practically wiping the drool from my chin. (That is a figure of speech 'cause I would never actually drool in front of Edward. That would be gross.)

I had always prided myself on not being "floozy," as Renee put it, and had only ever crushed on one boy at a time. It hadn't really been an issue after the whole debacle with Aiden, until I met Edward and Edward's father. I knew I shouldn't have been thinking about him in that way because he was married and I was sitting right next to Edward, but being in a small, compact space with the two most handsome men on the planet made me slightly flustered. _I am blessed._

Speaking, of handsome, Edward did look delicious tonight. _Did I just refer to Edward as delicious?_ I swore my jaw nearly fell from my mouth when I'd opened the door and there he stood in smooth slacks and a shiny tie, feeling a flood of relief wash through me that I had decided to wear a (modest) skirt and didn't feel over-dressed.

I was expecting Edward's mom to pick us up so I was really surprised when his father stepped out of the car and opened the back door of his Mercedes for me and Edward to climb into. Apparently, Mrs. Cullen was at the school early setting up for the dance.

Besides Edward introducing me to his father, Carlisle (though I secretly preferred to call him Dr. Cullen), there hadn't been much conversation on the way to the dance. That was all right with me, seeing as it allowed me to focus on keeping the drool inside my mouth and fight the overwhelming urge to snatch Edward's hand from across the seat.

When we reached the school, Edward quickly hopped out of the car and raced over to my side to open the door for me. My heart fluttered wildly as I realized exactly how much of a true gentleman he was. We went to the trunk of the car to get the digital cameras and set off towards the school.

When we walked into the gym, Edward immediately started to take pictures. That was a little odd because we were the only people there besides the chaperones and the DJ. The gym looked pretty much the same, except for a few lame streamers and balloons that were hanging up, and I honestly couldn't bring myself to care about any of it because this was my date with Edward, and I was going to make the most of it.

Students eventually started filling up the gym and by eight, both Edward and I were in full swing taking pictures. Though I was more than a little disappointed when Edward asked me to stand next to the DJ and take pictures of the couples and cliques that wished to pose in front of him, I was relieved that he didn't actually expect me to dance with him. Not only did I have no sense of rhythm, but the students looked like they were trying to _mate_ on the dance floor – and not doing it very well. It was really quite disturbing watching boys who still hadn't hit puberty grind against girls twice their size in what I assumed was supposed to be a sexy manner.

I did feel a little jealous though when the slow songs came on and everyone coupled up, looking all sweet, dancing with their partners. I daydreamed about what it would be like for Edward to hold me as we slow-danced and sing the lyrics of a romantic song in my ear.

Around nine the dance was beginning to wrap up, and I had filled the memory card of my camera with as many good pictures as I could. I really wanted to impress Edward and give him a good selection of pictures to choose from. I was about to walk out of the gym to get a drink of water when I spotted Edward across the room. And he was staring at me. Like, _really_ looking at me. The crackle of energy between us as he began to walk towards me was hard to miss, and then I _felt_ it. I mean I really _felt_ it.

Sexual tension.

My breath picked up again, and I tried to swallow as much air as possible so I wouldn't drown in the "sexual tension" flowing between my body and Edward's. Just as he reached me, Brian McKnight's "Back at One" began playing from the DJ's booth.

Oh. My. God. I _loved_ this song. And, oh. My. God. It was a sign from heaven that Edward and I were meant to be together, because the lyrics captured our relationship perfectly. It _was_ undeniable that we should be together. And Edward _was_ a dream come true – _my_ dream come true.

I stared into his green eyes intently, just willing him to ask me to dance with him. He hesitated for a rather long moment, and I began to think he was actually not going to ask me. And I was partially right because he never _did_ ask me. He kind of just put his hands around my waist and pulled me to him, silently pleading with me to not reject his advances (at least that is how I interpreted it).

I immediately complied, awkwardly wrapping my arms around his neck and leaning against his shoulder as the lyrics played softly over the sound system. I don't think Edward really knew how to dance either, because we were kind of just swaying back and forth, and that was all right. Blissfully wrapped in Edward's arms and drinking in his Edward smell (which surprisingly smelt similar to my dad's Old Spice cologne), nothing and nobody could ruin this moment.

Except Alice Fucking Brandon. I gave myself a mental slap on the wrist for thinking the word "fuck," but really, what the _fuck_ was she thinking?

She tapped me on the shoulder, and I hesitantly removed my head from Edward's chest. "Do you mind if I cut in," she asked a little too sweetly. The bitch knew what she was doing. I internally slapped myself on the wrist again for thinking the word "bitch," but really, what was that _bitch_ fucking doing? Was she purposefully trying to ruin my moment with Edward?

The smirk on her face told me that the answer to that question was an easy _yes_. Edward looked more than a little surprised; however, the surprise on his face didn't reflect the repulsion I had hoped to find there. He didn't look opposed to dancing with Alice with her mini-skirt and her fake face and her slutty shirt that showed off her non-existent cleavage – he was merely surprised.

I knew what that meant… he didn't feel for me the way I felt for him. He probably thought this was one big joke. He'd probably handed out business cards to all the girls in school and was laughing with all of them at stupid Bella Swan who fell for his cheap tricks and witty banter.

There was only one thing I could do in that moment—that was to protect my heart. I knew what I had to do.

I plastered a smile on my face, hoping that it didn't look as fake as hers. "Sure, Alice. Have at it."

I unwrapped myself from Edward's embrace and found that he hesitated in letting me go. That was odd. I looked up to gauge his reaction. His brow furrowed and his eyes were dark as if he were mildly offended or confused. Was it possible that I had been wrong? I wanted so badly to take it all back, but then he clenched his jaw and turned towards Alice. "Fine, Alice, let's _have at it_."

His tone bit with sarcasm. I shook my head to clear my mind of vindictive, but hopeful, thoughts. Pathetically, I _wanted_ Edward to be disappointed and hurt by my dismissal so I could further my illusion that he might actually feel something for me. But he deserved to be with the girl he really wanted, so I stepped away.

Turning my back on the happy couple, I quickly walked towards the exit, attempting to keep myself composed long enough to make it to the girl's bathroom. I was so caught up in my anguish that I almost didn't notice that Dr. Cullen was dancing closely with Ms. Evans.

_Oh great, the icing on top of the shitty cake. Just rub all of my crushes in my face with other girls! _I mentally slapped my wrist for thinking the word "shitty" but really, this was the _shittiest_ fucking birthday of my entire life.

**. . .**

_09/13/01_

_Dear Diary,_

_I hate my life. I'm such a fool thinking Edward could ever fall in love with me. He didn't speak to me for the rest of the night after he danced with Alice, and I couldn't bring myself to even look at him the entire ride home because I was scared he'd see how red my eyes were from crying in the bathroom. _

_I should have known he'd fall for a girl like her. And the worst part is… I still love him after all of it._

_I don't know what to do. I really don't want to change myself, but maybe if I look and act more like Alice he might like me back again. Love _**_is_**_ about compromise after all._

_At least that's what Renee says._

_**. . .**_

**A/N:** I quickly wanted to mention that Bella, as well as all the other characters (including Alice) will mature and grow throughout this story. This story is outlined through their senior year of high school. Her inane chatter will not always be so melodramatic and absurd.

Thanks to acciodanrad9 and xsecretxkeeperx for owning me and being awesome betas! And thank you to the wonderful readers who've reviewed, story alerted, added this to their favorites (or did all three). It means a lot!

Next Up... _Chapter Three: The First Time She Failed Him_


	3. The First Time She Failed Him

**An Introduction to Swirl and Daisy: The Non-Romantic Romance**

Disclaimer: Any Twilight characters that may appear in this story belong to Stephenie Meyer. The remainder is my original work. No reproduction is allowed without my written consent.

_Chapter Three: The First Time She Failed Him_

**. . .**

_10/01/01_

_Dear Diary,_

_I'm sorry it's been over a week since I last wrote in you. I've honestly been so busy that I haven't had the chance. Not to mention it's really hard to talk about how heartbroken I am right now. But I really need someone to talk to, someone I can trust. And that's you._

_Today the entire eighth grade class is going on a field trip to a museum. I'm actually sitting on a bus right now since it's about an hour away from Forks. Edward is on the same bus as me._

_I don't know why, but sometimes he glances at me. That could be because Alice is sitting right next to me, though._

_That's right, I'm sitting next to Alice Brandon and Rosalie Hale. We're friends now - kind of. Here's the story…_

I cried myself to sleep the night I got home from the dance. I was so upset about what happened with Alice and Edward that I couldn't hold it all in. The next day Renee called me to see how the dance went, and I ended up crying for another hour on the phone as I told her. Renee listened to me sob, letting me tell my story uninterrupted, and at the end said she had a surprise for me and that she'd see me tomorrow.

I was so tired and heartbroken that I didn't even think about what that meant. To be honest, I kind of forgot that she lived in an entirely different state. So imagine my surprise when my dad pulled up on Sunday and Renee was in the passenger seat of the car.

I couldn't help myself - I darted out of the house and ran into my mother's arms, practically knocking her over with the sheer force of my enthusiasm. I hadn't realized how much I missed her.

My mom told Charlie that he needed to go somewhere else so we could have girl-time, and with that she took me up to my room to talk about Edward and what I could do to win him back.

"Now, sweetie, no offense, but guys like girls who have a have a certain _je ne sais quois_," Renee said.

I had absolutely no idea what _je ne sais quois_ was, but I knew I wanted it badly if it meant that I could get Edward to notice me. "What exactly is that?"

Renee sat up straighter. "It's a certain elusive quality a girl, or in your case a young woman, might have. It's when men can't quite put their finger on why it is they find a woman so attractive. She's mysterious. She's intriguing. And she simply reeks of 'sexual appeal.'" My mom clearly had _je ne sais quois_… but I did not.

And there it was again, the s-word (_sex_). I didn't want to tell my mom that I was actually kind of afraid of sex. She had told me that it would be worth it in the end, but that it hurt in the beginning. I really didn't have a high pain tolerance. Though I wasn't sure I was ready for all this, my mom knew what she was talking about. She always had a boyfriend around, and she had married my father (and Phil, too). I took a deep breath and asked the inevitable question in a whisper, "How do I get 'sex appeal'?"

My mother's face brightened. "Well, first, we need to go shopping!"

With a scribbled note from Renee excusing me from school, Monday was spent shopping in Seattle. A small part of me was sad I wouldn't see Edward until Tuesday, but I was mostly relieved that I could put off facing him another day. I was quite sure that at the sight of him I would burst into tears, the crushing disappointment of what we could have been swallowing me whole.

While most girls would probably love to spend a day shopping with their mom, I absolutely hated it. Normally, if Renee picked out a shirt that was too low cut or a skirt that was too high, I would have immediately said no. Today, I kept telling myself that Renee knew what she was talking about and allowed her to pick out whatever she wanted. I didn't even object when she bought me a pair of two inch heels, telling me they would do miracles for my posture.

We got jeans that made my butt look rounder, shirts that made my waist look smaller, and shoes that made my legs look longer. Renee then took me to a salon to get my nails done, my hair styled, and my eyebrows waxed. The entire time I was taking deep breaths and telling myself it would be worth it when I saw the look on Edward's face as I floated into the room tomorrow reeking of "sex appeal."

That night Renee taught me how to walk in heels and put on make-up. It was a little too heavy for my taste, and the eye-liner pencil kept sticking me in the eye, but eventually I got the hang of it. I felt like a whole new person.

I hated it.

Tuesday morning brought on a wreck of nerves. Renee hugged and kissed me good-bye, wishing me good luck and promising to come out to Forks whenever she got another chance. I kind of wished she would have been there to hold my hand as I was walked into school, if only to have kept me from tripping in these ridiculous shoes.

Attempting to not hyperventilate as I walked into first period, I reminded myself to take even breaths. I tried to convince myself that nobody was staring at me when I walked in the door, but really the only person who wasn't looking at me was Edward, sitting in front of his computer with his camera around his neck, sorting pictures, as per usual.

And really, I couldn't blame everyone for looking at me in my bell-bottom jeans that were tight on my thighs and flared out at the knee, my red shirt that had "princess" written on it in pink, glittery letters, and the heels I was attempting (but not succeeding) to gracefully walk in. I reminded myself that I looked hot and that I had "sex appeal" and that Edward would see the changes in me and now think I was worthy of his attention. It gave me enough of a confidence boost that I managed to amble over to him.

"Hey, Edward," I muttered, biting my lip in an effort to calm my nerves before I gauged his reaction.

He looked up quickly from his camera. I could tell the exact moment he realized it was me standing there because his eyes widened minutely before a blank look came over his face. He stared at me for a few endless moments, but it wasn't the same as the warm, gazing stares that we had shared only last week. It was cold and vacant. I'd never felt so alone and exposed as I did with that stare.

He blinked a few times and nodded sharply in my direction before he turned back to the computer and continued sorting through pictures. Edward didn't speak a lot, so it wasn't abnormal for him to acknowledge me with a nod, but it had always felt friendly and welcome. This was different, and I stood there awkwardly before finally taking my seat at the computer next to him.

I pulled the camera that I had used at the dance out of my purse (because girls in eighth grade _did_ carry purses and not ratty purple backpacks they imagined held good-luck) and handed it to him. "I hope you like the pictures I took; I tried to give you as much variety as possible."

Edward once again acknowledged me with a nod as he removed the memory card from the camera and stuck it in the card reader. And that was it. He didn't utter a word to me during the entire class. He didn't IM me. He sat there on the computer sorting pictures as if I didn't exist.

And my heart broke a little more.

**. . .**

Tuesday night I called Renee. I cried to her on the phone for another hour or so, but she assured me that everything was going according to plan. Apparently boys like to pretend they aren't interested in a girl they really are interested in because they're insecure about how the girl actually feels about them.

This gave me a small confidence boost because Renee really did know what she was talking about when it came to boys. I was able to walk into school on Wednesday with my head held high wearing another of the outfits Renee had picked out, one that I was positive Edward would love.

Except he didn't.

The only time he even acknowledged me was when we brushed hands (accidentally, of course) when we were both reaching for the card reader. And he only did it to mutter a quick apology.

I don't know what stung more, my hand from the shock of energy I felt as Edward and I touched, or my heart when the only word he spoke to me was "sorry."

**. . .**

Wednesday night I called a radio station and dedicated a song to Edward.

"I want to dedicate a song to my ex-boyfriend, Edward."

"_And what song would that be?"_

"'From the Bottom of My Broken Heart' _by Britney Spears._"

"_Okay, this is going out to everyone with a broken heart tonight. But especially to Edward from Rebecca."_

I didn't give my real name in case he was listening.

**. . .**

Thursday night, I cried for two hours and then slept with Edward's business card under my pillow.

**. . .**

_Bella!_

_This is Alice Brandon._

_Wuss Up? How R U? _

_Sry we haven't REALLY talked. I don't know Y we aren't friends cuz that would be super awesome!_

_Sry about the whole Edward thing, R U mad me? The thing is that me and E have known each other for like, YEARS. I REALLY like him a lot and I think he likes me 2. I mean, we used to hang out all the time and then when he realized he liked me he kind of freaked and stopped hangin. But I'm not giving up cuz I think we're M2B._

_Anywayz, we should sit 2gether on the bus Mon! Then I could get to know U! Rose will sit w/ us too. She REALLY wants 2 meet U!_

_Hugz!_

_Alice  
_

_P.S. Those shoes are REALLY cute!_

_P.S.S. Circle YES or NO to the bus thing and send this note back to me!_

_YES_

_NO_

I stared at the note that Alice had deposited on my desk in shock. This could be played one of two ways; I could act like the vindictive bitch (I mentally slapped myself on the wrist for thinking the word "bitch") I was and shun her for the rest of our school careers, or I could act like the vindictive bitch (mental slap) I was and sabotage her from the inside out.

I circled _YES_. Bitch was going down.

…_and now I'm sitting on a bus a bus between tweedle-dee and tweedle-dum. _

_Alice has a false crush on Edward. I know she's just out to get me because she's been talking about Mike and Tyler for the last 20 minutes. She finally fell asleep (thank God) and left me to my own devices._

_If Alice is a chatterbox, then Rose is an ice queen. Seriously, the girl needs to get a personality or melt her heart or something. Alice was definitely BS-ing me in that note 'cause Rosalie hasn't spoken more than five words to me this entire trip. She's not even pretending to be polite. Whatever._

_And Edward… Edward is beautiful. He's hiding behind a book right now, and I really want to know what he is reading. And OMG he wears glasses when he reads. I think I may love him more than ever. He's wearing a green shirt that matches his eyes perfectly, and whenever I catch him throwing glimpses in this direction I feel like—_

_Oops! He just caught me looking at him again! I better go; I think we're pulling up to the museum. I'll give you an update later!_

_-Bella_

Alice and Rosalie (mostly Alice) insisted that I stay with them during the tour of the museum. I tried to keep Edward in my line of sight at all times, but he seemed to take more time than the other students observing the exhibits. I even saw him pull a magnifying glass out of his bag to get a closer look at a rare diamond necklace from the Renaissance Era. I was practically panting over him at that point. He was so amazing; he was smart and wonderful and so good-looking! And he would never want me…

The entire time we were there Alice kept asking me questions about my time in Phoenix. She pretended to be shocked when I told her that I never had a boyfriend before and said she was insanely jealous that my mom loved to take me shopping. I really wished she would have been half as interested in the museum as she seemed to be with me because it really was fascinating. I wished more than ever that Edward would join our group.

The cafeteria we were supposed to eat lunch in came into view as we reached the end of the museum. Alice immediately pulled me to a table and sat next to me. Rosalie was bored as ever and brought her boyfriend, Emmett, to sit with us. The two of them seemed engrossed in their conversation, so I turned to Alice to ask her about how long she had lived in Forks. However, as soon as I caught her eye, she asked, "Bella, can I be honest with you?"

I immediately grew suspicious, especially with Alice innocently batting her eyelashes at me. "Sure, what's up?"

"I know you like Edward."

We sat there for a few awkward seconds. She was waiting for me to respond and my mind was oddly blank. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Alice patted my hand in what I assumed was supposed to be a sympathetic gesture, but it really just came off as condescending. "It's all right. I totally don't mind if you like him, too. I mean, it's only natural. He's incredibly good looking."

As she said that, Edward finally walked back into my line of sight. "Good looking" was the understatement of the year. Edward was _beautiful_.

"I really don't know what you're talking about." Though I knew my fraud was already exposed.

Alice's face grew stony. "I can see what you're trying to do and it's not going to work. Edward likes girls like me. You know, _pretty_ girls. And really, you look great, but I heard him tell someone that you were just a wannabe prom queen." She continued to pat my hand in her "soothing" manner, and I felt tears fill my eyes. Could Edward have actually said that about me? "You can still hang out with us; we don't judge people for what they look like. And we can always hook you up with someone more your style, like Eric. He's single."

I nodded, numbness settling in my body as I willed the tears away. I wouldn't cry in front of Alice. "Excuse me, I just need to use the restroom." Spinning on my heel and barely maintaining my balance, I kept my face down so nobody could see the state I was in. I barely even felt it when I bumped into something hard, but two hands grabbed my shoulders forcing me to look up into a pair of startled, green eyes.

Edward looked at me for a few moments, his stare reflecting none of the coldness he had shown me in the past week. He was touching me like I had dreamt about ever since I met him, and yet the only thing I could do was yank myself away from his arms with a muttered, "Don't."

As soon as I reached the bathroom, I crumpled against the sinks with tears cascading down my flushed cheeks. I felt pathetic and weak. I was so sick of crying! And I was so sick of wearing shoes I tripped in, and I was sick of wearing pants that gave me a wedgie!

"Pull yourself together," I said. Lifting myself from the floor, I hovered over the sink before looking at myself in the mirror. There was mascara and eyeliner running down my face in streaks. I was so disgusted that I had even put on so much make-up in the first place.

I ripped paper towels from the dispenser and began furiously wiping the makeup off. I scrubbed and scrubbed, but the mascara and eye-liner wouldn't come off no matter how much I tried.

"Bella?"

I jumped back in surprise from the unexpected intrusion on my personal moment. "M-Ms. Evans?"

She smiled softly at me and pulled something out of her purse. "Here, it's makeup remover. It even effectively takes off waterproof mascara."

Taking the remover from her, I stared at it curiously. "I-I don't know what do with this," I admitted. My mom had taught me how to put makeup on, but told me there was no point in taking it off since I was just going to wake up the next morning and put more on.

Ms. Evans smiled even brighter as she reached behind me to grab a paper towel. "Do you mind if I…?"

"No! Please do." I was more than happy to let her help.

She took the jar of remover back, opened it, and put a small amount onto the paper towel. "Close your eyes." My eyes fluttered close, and I held my breath as she began wiping the makeup from my lids. "I couldn't help but notice you've been dressing a little more… differently than usual. Is there anything in particular that brought this on?"

A few stray tears dripped from my still closed eyes. "Yes."

She let it rest for a couple paper towels strokes before saying, "You know, if there's anything you want to talk to me about, I'm more than willing to listen."

The darkness behind my eyelids somehow made it easier to say what I needed to. "There was this boy. And I really liked him a lot but he likes another girl."

"And let me take a guess, she dresses a little different from you and wears a lot of makeup?" Ms. Evans said, as she finished applying the remover.

"I just thought that if I, you know, dressed a bit more like her then maybe he would like me, too... but it didn't work." The power behind that simple statement startled me. I had given up my identity, my appearance, my purple backpack, and all for what? Nothing. "And I failed. I failed so miserably! He doesn't like me at all anymore, and he still likes her! I failed him. I failed my mother! I just failed!" I stepped back from Ms. Evans, disgusted with my outburst; however, Ms. Evans stepped with me and kept an arm steady on my back. It was comforting, and much more affective than Alice's phony sympathetic arm petting. "What am I supposed to do?" I asked.

She had this peculiar smile on her face as she brushed a few strands from my eyes. "First off, you need to realize that you didn't fail this boy and you didn't fail your mother. The only person you failed was yourself because you weren't true to who you are. Second, you need to come to terms with the person you want to be. Do you know who that person is?"

"I think so."

"Good. Remember that and hold onto who that person is because, believe it or not, there are going to be a lot of times in your life where you will think it's easier to compromise that person in order to fit in. Whenever you feel like that, I want you to remember this moment and remember what truly makes you happy."

It felt weird; the only person I had ever asked for boy advice was my mom. Ms. Evans wasn't mentioning anything about "sex appeal" or _je ne sais quois._ But it was comforting to hear that I didn't need to change.

"And lastly, I want you to listen really closely—because this is the most important thing—don't ever change for a boy. If ever a boy says you need to change who you are for him, even if you have the most amazing chemistry in the world, he isn't worth you. You are beautiful just as you are. Never forget that."

I felt a small smile involuntarily cross my lips. It was minuscule, but it was the first true smile I had felt in weeks. "Isn't chemistry a science class?"

Ms. Evans laughed. "Yes, but it's also when two people are drawn to each other. They feel deep down in their bones that they know this person without really _knowing_ them. Does that make sense?"

Yeah, I knew _exactly_ what she was talking about because I felt that way every time I looked at Edward (or at least when he made eye contact with me).

"Are you going to be okay?"

"I just need a minute."

She gave me a brief hug. "All right. Meet us out at the buses in five minutes."

As Ms. Evans left, I looked in the mirror once more. My face looked horrible because of all the crying, but it was so good to finally see _myself_ and not the manufactured image Renee had bought me.

I splashed some water on my cheeks to try and rid myself of the red blotches. They didn't completely go away, but I definitely preferred them to the oily foundation I'd had layered on my face for the last week.

Facing Alice looking like this was not on the list of things I ever wanted to do, but now was the time. I didn't want to be friends with her, and I could practically feel the vindictive bitch in me die as I stared at myself in the mirror. All the fight left me, and I would have rather been a loner than try and befriend the queen bee again.

With a deep breath I left the bathroom and the person I had become in the last week behind me, walking out the person I wanted myself to be.

Me.

**. . .**

"Bella! I saved you a seat! Come sit next to me!" Alice called. She and Rosalie were sitting in the middle of the bus flirting with Emmett and a few of the boys from the football team. I shot her a pointed look, then walked right past her. Hopefully turning my back on her in front of the entire eighth grade class would send the message that I wasn't interested in being her little pet-project anymore.

The only seat left was next to Edward (because who doesn't love a bit of cosmic irony), and I approached him warily. He was holding a book up to his face, and he appeared to be reading, but the lack of reading glasses proved his deception.

"Hey, Edward," I greeted.

_He could burn holes in that book with the power of his stare_, I thought right before he turned that gaze on me. His eyes softened considerably when they took in my freshened appearance, and a small smirk replaced the scowl. "Your face looks normal again."

Despite the insinuation, I chuckled. "Yeah, I guess I'm really not cut out to be a Barbie doll."

"No, you're not." I could tell he hadn't realized how rude that would sound by his flush and immediately backtracking. "What I mean is that you are so much better this way. I mean, not that you were bad before or anything. It's just-" My smile grew even more pronounced as he let out an exasperated whoosh of air. "Never mind."

"Is it all right if I sit next to you?" I asked.

"Sure," he said, averting his eyes and scooting over a little to make room for me.

I tried to be as smooth as possible as I slid in next to him, but of course I still managed to "accidentally" brush his arm. It was awkward for a few minutes as the bus left the museum. Soon he went back to his book, and I pretended to write on a blank page of my diary (didn't want to chance Edward seeing some of my more personal thoughts about him). He abruptly closed his book about half an hour into the bus ride and turned to me.

"Why didn't you want to dance with me last week?" he demanded.

Well, that was a twist. "What do you mean, why didn't I want to dance with you? It was you who didn't want to dance with me!"

"That's ridiculous. If I didn't want to dance with you then I wouldn't have asked you."

"Technically, you didn't _ask_ me," I said and then blushed as I remembered Edward putting his hands on my waist. "And you didn't tell Alice no when she asked you!"

"You did not give me a chance to!" he said. "One second she asks me to dance, and the next you are practically giving her my hand."

_Hmmm… that had seemed like a lot longer than a second to me._ I struggled for a rebuttal. "Well, I know you like Alice. She _told_ me!"

"Don't be so absurd. Why would I like Alice when I have y-" Edward quickly cut himself off. Finally, I felt the "chemistry" between us again. He blinked and looked down at his hands. When he spoke again, it was in an entirely different tone. "I have a business proposition for you. I don't know if you know this, but I design T-shirts for a living and sell them online for a decent profit. I'm looking for an assistant to help me with web design. You don't have to have experience in the strictest sense, but I can already tell with your eye for photography that you will be perfect for my entrepreneurial staff…"

I listened to the thirteen-year old love of my life talk about his successful online T-shirt website with a content smile until I felt the heat of someone's stare on the back of my head. I turned around to see Alice Fucking (mental cringe) Brandon staring at me. I smirked at her.

_Oh yeah, that bitch went down._

. . .

**A/N**: A huge special thanks to xsecretxkeeperx and acciodanrad9 for being my unbelievably awesome betas!

I was blown away by the response to last chapter! Thank you to everyone who reviewed, alerted, and favorited Swirl and Daisy- they both love you as much as they love each other.

Up Next..._ Chapter Four: The First Time She Said the S-word_


	4. The First Time She Said the S Word

**An Introduction to Swirl and Daisy: The Non-Romantic Romance**

Disclaimer: Any Twilight characters that may appear in this story belong to Stephenie Meyer. The remainder is my original work. No reproduction is allowed without my written consent.

**A/N:** Thanks to **xsecretxkeeperx** and **acciodanrad9** for being my betas!

_Chapter Four: The First Time She Said the S-word_

_**. . .**_

_COMP520072: This is Edward to Bella. _

_COMP520073: it's not going 2 work Edward._

_COMP520072: I don't know what you are talking about._

_COMP520073: yes u do_

_COMP520072: No, I don't._

_COMP520073: stop acting like u don't know what I'm talking about, it's not going 2 work_

_COMP520072: But I don't know what you are talking about._

_COMP520073: Yes u DO!_

_COMP520072: No, I don't._

_COMP520073: will u STOP?_

_COMP520072: Will I stop what?_

_COMP520073: STOP PRETENDING LIKE U DON'T KNOW WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT!_

_COMP520072: But I don't know what you are talking about._

_COMP520073: YES U DO!_

_COMP520072: Why don't you explain to me what you think it is I'm trying to get you to do?_

_COMP520073: ur trying to get me 2 say that word._

_COMP520072: What word?_

_COMP520073: U KNOW WHAT WORD I'M TALKING ABOUT!_

_COMP520072: No, I don't._

_COMP520073: YES U DO!_

_COMP520072: No, I don't._

_COMP520073: AHHHH! WILL U STOP?_

_COMP520072: Will I stop what?_

_COMP520073: I'm not doing this anymore._

_COMP520072: Doing what?_

_COMP520073: U KNOW WHAT!_

_COMP520072: No, I don't._

_COMP520073: BULLSHIT!_

_**.**_

_**.**_

_**.**_

_**.**_

_COMP520072: Bella?_

_COMP520073: I don't want 2 hear u gloat __='(_

_COMP520072: I wasn't going to gloat._

_COMP520073: than wat do u want?_

_COMP520072: You should really work on your spelling and grammar._

_**.**_

_**.**_

_**.**_

_COMP520072: Bella?_

_COMP520073: What?_

_COMP520072: I would have settled for BS _**=)**

_**. . .**_

Next Up.._. Chapter Five: The First Time He Called Her His Best Friend_


	5. TFT He Called Her His Best Friend

**An Introduction to Swirl and Daisy: The Non-Romantic Romance**

Disclaimer: Any Twilight characters that may appear in this story belong to Stephenie Meyer. The remainder is my original work. No reproduction is allowed without my written consent.

_Chapter Five: The First Time He Called Her His Best Friend_

_**. . .**_

"Five-four-three-two-one—" Edward counted down under his breath before turning the bottle of chocolate syrup right side up and moving onto the next glass of milk. "Five-four-three-two-one."

I watched intently as he put the bottle down and picked up a long, silver spoon, counting off the number of stirs he made in each direction. Until I met Edward Cullen, I had no idea there was an exact formula for making the best chocolate milk possible from Hershey's syrup. He was so smart. And so beautiful.

And so right! It seriously was the best chocolate milk I ever had. The rich chocolate flavor blended flawlessly with the taste of the milk. And only a _small_ part of the deliciousness was due to the fact _Edward_ had made it for me.

I sighed softly. _Edward Cullen _had made me, _Bella Swan_, chocolate milk. I loved him. Glancing up from my cup, I found Edward assessing my reaction. He actually looked a little nervous. He was too cute.

"It's really delicious - the best I've had!" The wide, encouraging smile plastered on my face only reinforced my words.

I watched closely as a faint blush rose on Edward's cheeks, and his mouth transformed into a shy smile. It was suddenly stifling hot in the kitchen as my stomach fluttered and my heart rate quickened. Edward took a sip from his glass. My eyes transfixed on his strong neck as he gulped the drink down.

My breath picked up as I thought, not for the first time, that I was _meant_ to love this boy. He had been created for me; I could just feel it in my gut. I then reminded myself that I was only thirteen years old. Even though Renee had married twice, she'd warned me thoroughly that I was not to get married until I was thirty. But that was so far away.

We stood there for a few minutes, in Edward's kitchen, sipping chocolate milk and sharing stolen glances, before I broke the silence. "I have to admit that I'm really nervous about this investment meeting."

Edward nodded and placed his cup on the counter. "Don't be. I don't want to get ahead of myself, but I can guarantee you that it's pretty much a sure thing."

"But how do you know that?"

He seemed to consider his answer for a moment. "This particular investor is very supportive of my business endeavors, especially the ones that utilize my talents."

"Your talents? You mean like your entrepreneurial skills?" I was genuinely curious.

"Well, yeah, there is that." He averted his eyes before he bashfully continued. "But I also design the T-shirts as well. I mean, I draw… and stuff."

I'm sure the look of shock on my face was comical. "Is there anything you _can't_ do?"

Edward's eyes remained focused on his cup, his fingers tracing imaginary lines on the counter top. "I'm sure you've noticed," he began in a whisper, "that I don't really interact well with other people our age."

My eyebrows shot up because I really _hadn't_ noticed that. Thinking back to other times Edward had interacted with students, I came to the astonishing realization that the only time I'd seen him talk to someone else was at the dance when Alice (f-word) Brandon had interrupted us. Excitement bubbled inside my chest. I mean, it was a little on the weird side, but Edward Cullen had chosen _me_ over anyone else at that school to be friends with. And he had made me chocolate milk! I felt like squealing.

I was still attempting to restrain my giddiness when Edward spoke up again. "Did I freak you out?"

"No! Of course not! Why would you think that?" I asked quickly, hopefully appeasing any anxiety Edward might have.

Edward shrugged and went back to tracing lines on the counter.

"Anyway," I continued, alleviating the awkwardness, "what other talents does the great Edward Cullen possess? Does he read minds? Can he sparkle? Inquiring minds want to know."

Edward's grin reappeared. Really, he was too beautiful, especially with that smile on his face. "I do speak a few languages," he admitted shyly.

"Wow, that's so incredible! Could you say something to me in another language?" I looked at him through my eyelashes and fluttered them as flirtatiously as I could.

He seemed hesitant for a moment before firmly nodding. "_I'quelin Balrogath naa ba Balrogath."_

It was like a caress, the way his mouth curled around the words and how smoothly they rolled from his tongue, submitting to the perfect control of his voice. It was the most glorious thing I had ever heard, and I had to suppress a shudder.

"And what exactly does that mean?" I breathlessly asked.

"The best balrog is a dead balrog."

"Huh?"

"It's Elvish," Edward began with a gleam in his eye. "A balrog is a mythical creature from _The Lord of the Rings_."

"_The Lord of the Rings_," I repeated slowly. "Is that like a book about someone who tames lions and tigers for circuses or something?"

Edward surprised me by laughing really loudly. Even his laugh was beautiful. "No, Bella, it's a trilogy that was published in the mid-1900s, written by J.R.R. Tolkien. It's a fantasy novel with wizards and elves and dwarfs. It's epic," he said enthusiastically.

"Oh, so it's kind of like _Harry Potter_?"

Edward's smile abruptly faltered, and his eyes went stony. "No, it is most definitely _not_ like _Harry Potter_."

I couldn't help the chill that went through my spine at how cold his voice sounded. What had I done wrong?

Edward seemed to sense my unease, because his body immediately relaxed from his stiff posture, and his face became friendlier. "I'm sorry. It's just that I get so frustrated with people who compare the two series. _Harry Potter_," Edward spat the word as if it was a curse, "is a commercially driven book series that copies many of the mythical aspects of _The Lords of the Rings_. On the other hand, _The Lord of the Rings_ is a masterpiece carefully woven with power, beauty, and incredible imagery. It even has its own languages and mythology."

_Whoa_. Edward was _really_ passionate about this _Lord of the Rings_. I was about to rebut his statement that "_Harry Potter_ was a commercially driven book series" when he suddenly grabbed my hand and started pulling me up the stairs towards his bedroom.

And nothing else on God's green Earth mattered in this moment except that Edward Cullen was holding my hand and taking me up to his bedroom. I think my heart might have stopped.

"Let me show you exactly what I mean," he was saying. "You really need to be well-acquainted with _LotR_ if we're going to be working together, since that's the topic of the majority of the T-shirts we produce."

"_LotR_?" I asked, trying to keep up.

"It's just _Lord of the Rings_ abbreviated. It's easier to type when you're role-playing online with some of the other fans," he explained as we entered his bedroom.

And wow, was his bedroom amazing – just like the rest of the white mansion. I was beyond relieved there were no posters of half-naked women adorning his walls, like I expected most teenage boys to have. Instead, his walls were painted a dark shade of blue, and in certain areas there was calligraphy in gold-ink written on it.

_Aa' menle nauva calen ar' ta hwesta e' ale'quenle. _I didn't bother reading it out loud, certain I would butcher the Elvish language. "What does this mean?" I asked Edward, who had first darted over to his bookshelf to grab a handful of books and then the computer to pull a webpage up.

He glanced over his shoulder at me and smiled. "It's an Elvish farewell that means, 'May thy paths be green and the breeze on thy back'."

"Oh," I muttered dumbly, not even bothering to read any of the other hundred sayings on his wall. I meandered toward his massive queen-size bed with a blue and gold coverlet on it and ran my fingers over the soft material.

"Bella." Edward's voice seemed to break on my name and he was staring at me with an intensity I had never seen in a boy before. His eyes were dark, his jaw taut as he watched me. "Maybe it would be best," he whispered, "if you didn't stand so close to the bed."

My immediate reaction was to be a little hurt that he'd implied I shouldn't be next to the bed. And yet, his body language suggested that he wasn't really _angry_ at me. I couldn't exactly tell what was going on, but he looked uncomfortable, like he was trying to concentrate very carefully on whatever was going on in his brain.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I remembered Renee telling me about how men reacted to certain imagery. After the whole fiasco with Alice and Edward, I had been decidedly ignoring pretty much everything Renee had taught me about the male gender in the past thirteen years of my life, but times like this kind of made me want to remember. It was for the best, though, seeing as Edward clearly wasn't like other boys.

Edward subtly shook his head and turned back to the large computer monitor. "Would you like to watch the trailer for the first _LotR_ movie?" he asked as I peered over his shoulder to see _The Lord of the Rings _movie website.

"Sure." I sat in the second computer chair next to the desk.

Of course, watching Edward watch the trailer was far more interesting than watching the trailer itself. But I tried to at least give the illusion that I was interested in more than the way Edward's lips would mouth the words in the commercial or the bright smile that lit his face whenever the dude with the long, white beard was on the screen.

He was adorable.

"It comes out on December 19th," he said, once the trailer was over and he had me clicking through the character biographies on the site.

I was in the middle of reading about Pippin, and was actually interested in attempting to figure out exactly what a _hobbit_ was, so I gave a passive, "That's cool."

"There's actually a midnight showing in Port Angeles on the 18th and my dad is taking me with him since we don't have school because of Christmas," he continued. I glanced up from the screen, and he was looking at me expectantly – as if I would be able to decipher whatever type of man code he was sending me.

"That's… cool," I repeated.

We sat there for a few moments, his eyes pleading with me to get a clue.

"Is there anything—"

"Would you like to—"

We spoke at the same time, but were both cut off by the shrill of the phone.

He held up one finger. "Excuse me." Picking up the landline, he said, "Thank you for calling. This is Edward Cullen, the founder and president of E.C.T-Shirts speaking. I appreciate your call, how may I help you?"

He had a swift conversation with whoever was on the phone and abruptly hung up. "That was the investor," he said. "She'll be ready to see us in about two hours. We should probably get to work."

For the next hour and a half, Edward and I worked diligently on the visual aids for the presentation. He had compiled charts and graphs of his quarterly revenue as well as user-feedback from his clients. I worked, pasting everything to foam core and poster boards, while he embellished it with his incredible drawings and calligraphy. He was amazingly talented. I loved everything about him.

The last half hour we spent practicing the presentation. Edward might have seemed a little shy when you first met him, but he was a powerful speaker when he was trying to convince you to spend money on his business ventures. The doorbell rang, and Edward gave me a nervous smile, telling me I was going to do just fine. We grabbed the graphs and posters and headed down to the living room where Dr. Cullen (_sigh_) sat chatting happily with a woman who had grey hair.

Edward walked briskly over to the woman and shook her hand. "Good afternoon, Mrs. Evans. How do you do?"

_Mrs. Evans... weird_. The woman visibly scoffed and swatted Edward's hand away. "Edward, I'm not even going to consider your business proposal until you have given your grandmamma a proper hug and kiss."

Edward's face drained of color as he cast a quick glance at me. "Really, Mrs. Evans, I must object. This is a business conference, not a social function."

Dr. Cullen was attempting to stifle his laughter off to the side. What was so funny? Edward had a point, and Mrs. Evans – _his grandma_, I corrected myself – was acting very unprofessionally. And why Edward was so embarrassed? If I could manipulate my grandma into giving me money, I totally would.

"Edward, dear, I will be dead soon. It is my God-given right to force my one and only grandbaby into giving me sugar." Mrs. Evans didn't look like she was anywhere close to dying. She actually looked spectacular for someone her age, but Edward acquiesced and gave her what she wanted anyway. _He's so good with old people…_

"And who is your lady friend?" Mrs. Evans asked, turning her attention towards me. Any nerves I had felt prior to meeting the investor quadrupled when I realized I was also meeting Edward's grandmother. I smiled shyly at the woman as she assessed my appearance, wishing I'd dressed up a bit more for the occasion.

"This is Isabella Swan, known only as Bella. She is my business associate, and on a more personal note, she is my best friend… ever." The "ever" was quiet and tacked on as if an afterthought, but I couldn't help the way my heart stammered or the blood rose to my cheeks. He had stated my title with brazen confidence, and I tried to wrap my brain around the meaning of his words. _I was Edward Cullen's best friend… ever_.

Pretending I had already known that little tidbit of information, I found myself caring infinitely less about the impression his grandma had of me. I was his _best friend… ever,_ and that gave me more self-assurance than anything else in my entire life. I beamed.

I poised myself to shake Mrs. Evans' hand. Her grip was firm, as was mine, and something, gratitude maybe, seemed to pass between her eyes before she broke contact and turned back to Edward.

"Well, I'm glad you found an assistant. From what I hear, you're going to need one with the updates you were wishing to make to your business. Would she be on salary, as well, or on an hourly rate?"

That was news. I hadn't expected to actually make money if I worked for Edward – not that I doubted his success or entrepreneurial skills. I thought we'd be doing this for fun.

"I actually haven't spoken to Bella about what she would prefer since she is still a very recent addition. However, I believe a salary of four hundred and twenty five dollars per month is appropriate. I included it in the new budget I faxed over to you yesterday."

"Oh no, you don't have to worry about that!" I rushed to say. "I really wasn't expecting any compensation for working with Edward!" I was about to add that my reward was being able to work with Edward, but I promptly shut my mouth before I could humiliate myself.

"Oh, don't be ridiculous, Bella, dear," Mrs. Evans said. "I think four hundred and twenty five dollars sounds perfect for a starting salary, and we'll talk about a raise after the quarter is over."

"You didn't think I was going to pay you?" Edward looked upset and offended. "You do want to work with me, don't you?"

I felt the blood drain from my face, and I was suddenly ashamed that Edward thought I was rejecting his generosity. I lowered my voice, hoping only Edward would hear me, as I said, "Of course I want to work with you. It's just that you're my best friend, too… I would do it for free."

A blinding smile lit Edward's face at my declaration. And we stood there, staring at each other until Dr. Cullen cleared his throat and said, "Great! Four hundred and twenty five dollars a month it is. What is the next order of business?" We looked away from each other quickly, slightly embarrassed at the gaze we had shared in front of his family.

Preoccupying myself by finding the first visual aid for Edward's presentation, he began to speak. "As you know from our weekly statements, E.C.T-Shirts' sales on Ebay have taken off in the last quarter." He gestured to the chart I held up for Mrs. Evans. "This increase in profits looks very promising; however, we are not able to keep the entire profit because we have to pay out a portion to Ebay with every transaction we make.

"Therefore, I propose that we take this business to a whole new level and start our own website. Especially with _The Lord of the Rings'_ first movie coming out so soon, people will be clamoring for memorabilia. Here is an example of a shirt I designed just last week."

I pulled out the poster board with a drawing Edward had done with a wizard silhouetted by the yellow diamond traffic sign that read, "You shall not pass."

"I think in order to maximize our profits, we need to expand to our own website and start selling the T-shirts ourselves." Mrs. Evans listened intently while Edward spoke for a few more minutes, explaining why the switch was necessary and the extra expenses that would come with it, but why it would be worth it in the end.

She looked pensive as she considered Edward's proposition. "This is all very good. You clearly have done your homework. I'm with you for the most part; however, there are two things I would like to talk about before giving the final okay. If we are going to expand E.C.T-Shirts into a website, it only makes sense that you expand the scope of T-shirts as well. Enough of this 'One Ring to Rule Them All' mentality. I want to see more fandoms in your line – _Star Trek_, for instance."

Edward gave her a hard stare, and she gave him one back. They just sat there, for about a minute, before he snapped his gaze over to me. "Mrs. Evans is a _Trekkie_." I had no idea what a Trekkie was, but from the way Edward spat the word, I could tell he didn't like it.

"Now, Edward," Dr. Cullen piped in, "I happen to agree with your grandma. It's important to include all franchises if you want to maximize the amount of people you reach. Just think about how limiting it is if you are only producing memorabilia for one of the fandoms out there. You could easily double or triple your profits by designing shirts for _Star Wars_, _Dungeons and Dragons_, or even _Harry Potter_."

Edward's nose flared, and his eyes flashed dangerously at the mention of the HP-words. He took several deep breaths before saying in an alarmingly controlled voice, "But I don't know anything about those other fandoms. How am I supposed to design T-shirts for something I know nothing about?"

"That's where Bella comes in!" Mrs. Evans said. "She can do research online, find out what makes those markets tick, then report back to you. She can also find other people who design shirts, and buy the copyright from them for a set fee."

The meeting didn't seem to be going in Edward's direction. He was still attempting to remain composed. "But," he began forcefully, "the name of this company is E.C.T-Shirts, as in _Edward Cullen_. I design them. That's how it's always been."

"Yes, that's the other thing I wanted to talk to you about. E.C.T-Shirts isn't a marketable title for the business. It's boring."

Edward visibly huffed. I did have to kind of agree with Mrs. Evans on this point. The name was a _little_ dry.

"And what did you have in mind?" Edward growled.

"Hmmm…" Mrs. Evans thought for a moment. "How about ThinkGeek. com?"

"Do you wish to insult our clientele, Mrs. Evans? We are _not_ geeks!" I agreed; Edward was many things, but a geek was definitely not one of them.

Dr. Cullen was chuckling in the corner again before he managed to straighten out and suggest, "Ilovemyidoltees. com."

"No," Mrs. Evans spoke up before Edward had a chance to. "That's lame. How about DorkSide. com?"

"That's worse than geeks!" Edward snarled.

"Mint-In-Box. com," Dr. Cullen chipped in again. We all stared back at him. "You know, Mint-In-Box? Because you buy stuff and never open it and it stays in mint condition, becoming a collector's item?"

"No," Mrs. Evans and Edward said at the same time.

Everyone went quiet for a few moments, all deep in concentration.

Mrs. Evans broke the silence with a snap of her fingers. "I've got it! MyT-Spot. com!" For some reason, both she and Dr. Cullen broke out into hysterics. I was a little confused because I actually really liked that name, and it wasn't only because I wanted Mrs. Evans to like me (though that really helped).

"I really like MyT-Spot," I said, hoping to contribute at least a little to the conversation since I had no clever names to offer.

Mrs. Evans stopped laughing abruptly. "What did you just say, my dear?"

"I said that I really like MyT-Spot. I think it's witty." I moved my gaze over to Edward for reassurance, but he was looking at me in a peculiar way.

"I really like it, too," Edward said after a few moments of silence.

"What? You can't use that!" Mrs. Evans practically shouted.

"Why not?" Edward asked. "You came up with it yourself; we'll give you the credit on the site."

Dr. Cullen looked like he was fighting a smirk. "The boy does have a point, Elizabeth."

"I still don't understand what the problem is," Edward hedged.

"It's just that the T-Spot rhymes with-"

"Elizabeth," Dr. Cullen cut off Mrs. Evans. "You did come up with it, and you will get _all_ the credit."

Mrs. Evans put her head in her hands. "Fine. MyT-Spot. com it is."

We spent another half hour with Mrs. Evans and Dr. Cullen going over the specifics of the expansion and what Edward would have to do to accommodate more franchises in his website. By the end, Edward had made a compromise that he would design for as many fandoms as he could – excluding _Harry Potter_, since that would go against his moral beliefs and honor – and Mrs. Evans had written him a huge check for the expenses, including my first paycheck.

_**. . .**_

_COMP520072: This is Edward Cullen to Bella Swan._

So we were back to _this_ again.

_COMP520073: wat can i do for u?_

_COMP520072: I would like to request your presence at the midnight showing of _The Lord of the Rings: Fellowship of the Ring_ on December 18th. _

_COMP520072: As my date._

_**. . .**_

**A/N:** Thanks to xsecretxkeeperx and acciodanrad9 for being incredible betas! Reviewers came out for me in a huge way last chapter – thank you so much! Also a huge thank you to anyone who favorited or alerted Swirl and Daisy!

Are you on Team LotR or Team HP? Edward isn't going to have the last say in this little battle – not by a long shot.

Up Next... _Chapter Six: The First Time They Went On A Date_


	6. The First Time They Went On a Date

**An Introduction to Swirl and Daisy: The Non-Romantic Romance**

Disclaimer: Any Twilight characters that may appear in this story belong to Stephenie Meyer. The remainder is my original work. No reproduction is allowed without my written consent.

_Chapter Six: The First Time They Went On a Date_

_**. . .**_

It had taken me all of three seconds to respond to Edward's IM, telling him that I most definitely would be his date to the midnight showing of _The Lord of the Rings_.

I mean, when my father found out, I would be dead. And obviously, a date until four o'clock in the morning was a little past my curfew. Those little details I could work out later, because the only thing that mattered was that I was going on an actual date with Edward Cullen (and his father). I departed from Yearbook with a broad grin and a spring in my step. Ms. Evans had asked Edward to stay after class, so he wasn't able to walk with me to my next class, but not even that was enough to contain my soaring spirit.

Out of nowhere I felt someone shove me in the back – hard. I turned around and met the malicious eyes of Alice f-word Brandon. "Oops," she said innocently, but the sneer on her face didn't mask her guilt. Her eyes lit up like a demon's as she roughly pushed past me, knocking the textbooks from my arms.

Irritated but not surprised by her behavior, I bent down to pick up my books and nearly bumped heads with another student who had come over to help. "Hi, I'm Bella," I said cheerfully (Alice f-word Brandon's antics could not possibly dampen my post-Edward bliss).

The girl smiled and extending her hand to me. "I know. My name is Angela. We actually have English and Pre-Algebra together."

I searched my brain for any recognition of her, and came up empty. Huh. Now that I thought about it, I actually didn't know that many people at school. "I'm so sorry," I said. "I guess I've been really caught up in—"

"Daydreaming about Edward Cullen," she said.

"I was actually going to say paying attention to the teacher."

Angela laughed – actually laughed – at that. "Oh please, Bella. You aren't fooling anyone here. No offense, but it's kind of obvious. Especially when you scribble Edward's name on your notebook in gel-pen for everyone to see."

My face flushed. I really didn't think I had been that conspicuous. And gel-pens were supposed to be nearly invisible on white paper. I wondered if Edward had noticed… Angela kept giggling, though there was nothing malicious in her laughter. Finally, I let it go and chuckled along with her. It couldn't be too bad if he had still asked me out on a date.

"Come on, we better get to class or we'll be late," she said.

After our first encounter, Angela and I became good friends. It was nice having someone other than my diary to confide my feelings for Edward to, and in return she talked to me about a crush she had on Ben Cheney. She was even there to help me tell Charlie of my fast approaching first date with Edward. At first, I thought I'd need her there as a buffer so he wouldn't yell too loudly at me. But after I told him, he kind of looked at me weirdly, made a rumbling noise that sounded like a growl, and walked into the living room to drink beer and watch baseball.

My mother was a completely different story. She shrieked over the phone for an hour, questioning me on every detail from how he asked me to what I was planning on wearing. She was almost more enthusiastic about my date than I was. _Almost_. "It's just that you were a late bloomer," she explained to me after I mentioned this to her. "I mean, you're already so grown up and in eighth grade. I was beginning to wonder if you'd ever find a boy you liked."

For some reason, she said to make sure I was "being safe" with Edward. I told her she didn't have to worry because Edward would never let anything happen to me. She laughed at me and dropped the s-word (and by s-word, I meant _sex_). I stopped listening to her then and abruptly ended the call. Whenever Renee mentioned the s-word (sex), I seemed to end up with a bad case of word vomit or dressed like a Barbie doll.

Edward. I wistfully sighed at the mere thought of his name. Edward was…perfect. Our date was coming up this weekend, and I was seriously freaking out. It'd been about a month since he'd asked me out and things were going great. We saw each other every morning in Yearbook and three days a week I would go over to his house to work on MyT-Spot. com. I still hadn't met his mother, which I thought was a little weird, but I really enjoyed spending time at his house. Sometimes Edward's grandma would drop in to see how the research was going, and on more than one occasion, Dr. Cullen actually joined us for brain-storming sessions (I guiltily admitted that those times were my favorite).

I was beginning to notice some rather surprising changes in myself. For one, I couldn't look at any other guy without seeing some sort of trait that Edward possessed; like a boy's nose would be a similar shape to Edward's or he would wear a T-shirt that reminded me of MyT-Spot, which would of course remind me of Edward.

The urge to scream at the top of my lungs, "I love, Edward! He's my guy and I don't care if you like him!" whenever a girl looked in his direction was also growing. There was one day in Yearbook where Alice f-word Brandon came over and tried to flirt with Edward right in front of me. I almost lost it then, but managed to contain the impulse until I could get home and call the radio station.

That night I dedicated _He Loves You Not_ by Dream to Alice (using different aliases of course).

I sang along with the song as loudly as I could,

_It doesn't matter what you do,_

_he's never going to be with you._

_He's into what he's got._

_He loves me, he loves you not._

I then bought the CD and played that song on repeat for five days straight before Charlie came in and confiscated it. I felt better after that.

_**. . .**_

"Hi."

"Hi."

"Hi," he said again.

"Hi," I said again.

We stood there next to the parking lot, kind of smiling and looking into each other's eyes. It was a perfect moment…that only Alice f-word Brandon could ruin. "It really is disgusting, isn't it?" she said loudly.

I broke eye contact with Edward and glanced over at her in annoyance. "What do you want?" I asked. She was standing next to Rosalie, who rolled her eyes and walked back into the school.

Alice huffed at her friend's retreating back, then turned her attention back to us. "Edward," she purred, "I was wondering if you were going to see the new _Lord of the Rings_ movie tomorrow. I remember how much you like it from that time I came over your house and saw your room."

I was going to slap that bitch (mental wrist-slap) one of these days.

"Actually," Edward said, puffing out his chest, "I'm going tonight to the midnight showing." He looked back at me and said in a timid voice, "And Bella is coming with me."

I felt, more than saw, Alice's increasing anger, but I couldn't bring myself to care. I wouldn't care about breathing if Edward kept looking at me like that. "You know the only reason why a girl would go and see that movie is because of all the hot guys in it, right?"

Edward's eyes shot to Alice's face. "What are you talking about?"

"Yeah," Alice continued, "like that one guy – Legolas. Or maybe I should call him Legol-Ass. Seriously, that guy is such a babe."

A worried expression crossed Edward's features. He was so cute, worrying that I might actually be going just to watch the hot men on the big screen. I probably wouldn't even be paying attention to the movie with Edward sitting right next to me.

Still, it might be kind of fun to mess with his mind a little. "I know exactly what you mean, Alice," I said.

"You do?" Edward asked, equally surprised and dejected.

"Oh, yeah. I'm particularly fond of Orcs, especially ones with huge thighs. The loin cloth really does it for me." I started laughing, and Edward's shocked expression turned into a giant smile. I hardly noticed Alice stalking away, as Edward and I wiggled back in our little, impenetrable bubble.

"So…" I racked my brain for something to say and was coming up empty.

"Yes?" he asked.

"Umm… what time did you say you were coming to pick me up tonight?" I, of course, knew this information – I'd been repeatedly writing it in my diary for weeks. But I was lame and couldn't think of anything else to keep him talking.

"I'll be there at seven o'clock on the dot," he said.

"Okay," I nodded in agreement. We stood there for a few more moments, just looking at each other. "Okay, I'll see you then."

I started to leave but Edward practically shouted, "Wait Bella!"

I turned around and walked the three steps back to him, my heart pounding. I loved it when he said my name. "Yes, Edward?"

"Umm…" he seemed to be struggling as badly as I was with finding words. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why did you ask the time?"

Oh, shit (I mentally slapped myself on the wrist for thinking the real s-word). Would I look pathetic if I told him I just wanted to hear his voice again? For the rest of eternity…

"I just, uh, ya know, wanted to make sure that the plan was still the same," I stumbled through an explanation.

"Oh," he said with a nod, "okay, I'll see you tonight." He turned around, and I watched him walk away.

Until about five seconds later when I decided I wanted to talk to him again. "Edward, wait!"

He turned around and quickly walked back to me, with a large smile on his face. "Yes?"

Oh, shit (mental slap). I really needed a topic of conversation. "Umm… Okay I need to ask you a question," I hedged for time to come up with something interesting to say.

Edward nodded encouragingly.

"I was just wondering… do I need to bring anything with me tonight?" Lame.

For some reason Edward's face brightened. "Nope, I have everything covered."

"Right." We had actually discussed this earlier in the week. What was wrong with me?

"Okay."

"Okay."

"Okay," he said again.

"Okay," I said again.

"Okay," he said for a third time. Why was he standing there? Why was I standing there?

"Okay, bye," I said, attempting to leave before something even more stupid came out of my mouth. Apparently, though, my voice wasn't finished talking to him and my body seemed in compliance with my mouth. "Just one more thing," I said, turning back towards him and practically jogging to where he was still standing watching me walk away.

I was really stammering for a question at this point. And what was even more surprising was that Edward seemed to be hanging on my every word… too bad no words were actually coming out. Dr. Cullen saved me by pulling up in his car and calling for Edward.

"You know, I'll just ask you tonight."

"No, it's all right. Please ask me now," Edward said earnestly. "My dad can wait."

"Oh." I asked the first question that popped in my head. "Did you want to work on MyT-Spot over Christmas break?"

"Yes, I would really like to do that."

"Right," I said, ever the idiot. "Okay, bye."

_**. . .**_

Charlie brought home a pizza after work and insisted we have an early dinner before my date with Edward. We sat at the dining room table in an awkward silence, chewing our pizza and avoiding each other's eyes.

I had just finished my second slice and was standing up to wash my dishes when Charlie cleared his throat. "Um, why don't you sit down for a moment."

Oh God, no.

I hesitantly sat down in my seat again and waited for Charlie to say something. He sat back in his chair, beer bottle in hand. I could feel him assessing me with his penetrating stare. Finally, he sat up straight and folded his hands in front of him.

"Bella," he began, "I'm not sure if I'm completely comfortable with you dating at such a young age."

"It's all right, Dad," I said quickly. "Dr. Cullen will be there, and I promise we won't do anything wrong."

"I know that, but I got you something just in case." He pulled two items from a paper bag by his feet and placed them in front of me. I would never understand how Charlie's brain worked. The first item, pepper-spray, I could understand to some extent even if it was over the top. But the second item...

"A whistle?" I asked incredulously. "Seriously, what am I going to do with a whistle?"

"You blow on it."

"No, duh. But I doubt my attacker, no matter how generous he may be, is going to give me the time to reach into my purse and blow my whistle."

Charlie rolled his eyes. "That's why they put a lanyard on the end of it—so you can wear it around your neck. Duh."

"You…you want me to wear this thing on my date?" I asked in horror.

He didn't even try to deny it. "Fine. I'll just call mom and see what she has to say about it."

"Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that." He seemed to be having trouble coming up with the right words. "Look, I know what your mother can be like when it comes to certain, er, things." He abruptly broke eye contact and looked back down at his hands. "Sex, I mean sex."

Oh. My. God.

"Dad! Please stop!" I was practically shouting. It was already humiliating enough talking about this with Renee; the last thing I ever wanted to do was talk about this with my father.

"No," he said determinately, "it's really important that we talk about-"

"No, it's not! I'm only thirteen! Trust me; you have NOTHING to worry about."

He nodded in agreement but pushed forward anyway. "Maybe you feel that way now, but things change when you meet someone. You start feeling… different."

My face was burning, and I was either on the verge of laughter or tears. "Please, stop," I asked weakly.

"I just want to make sure you know that, despite what your mother may say, you don't have to do anything you don't want to do." I prayed that would be the end of his speech. But no. "And if you and Edward do ever decide to, uh, take that step, I want you to feel free to come to me and we can maybe set up a doctor's appointment or talk about it or... something."

That would never happen.

I abruptly stood up from my chair. "I need to go get ready," I said, fleeing to my room, effectively ending the conversation and not giving Charlie a chance to respond. I couldn't believe that had just happened. It was the most mortifying experience in the history of the world, and it just had to happen right before the biggest night of my life.

Edward had mentioned that people normally dressed up for midnight showings. I thought that was a little weird; we were only going to a movie theater, but I decided to wear a skirt and blouse anyway. I didn't want to do anything overly drastic with my hair and make-up because, as Edward put it, I wasn't cut out to be a Barbie doll. So I sat in front of the mirror, contemplating if I really was pretty until the doorbell rang.

For about three seconds, I debated whether or not to allow Charlie to open the door so Edward could watch me sashay down the stairs in my date attire like the girl in _She's All That_. I quickly dismissed that idea, realizing it would leave about twenty seconds of alone time between Charlie and Edward, and that was twenty seconds too many. Not to mention I was too clumsy to sashay down anything.

I practically ran down the stairs to get to the door before Charlie did, but the three seconds hesitation on my part had given him the advantage, and he was already standing in the doorway, blocking my view of Edward and muttering something in a low voice that I couldn't hear. This needed to stop now.

"Dad," I said sharply, interrupting whatever threats he was sending to Edward. He looked back at me with a gleam in his eye and a smirk on his face.

"Your date's here," he said, unusually cheerful. I was confused about how Charlie could have gone from disapproving to downright jolly in less than an hour. That is, until he stepped away from the door frame, and I could finally see Edward on the porch and his father by the car behind him.

Oh. My. God.

Dr. Cullen was dressed like an Elf. Edward was dressed like a Hobbit. And I was going to look like the idiot.

_**. . .**_

"I wanted to be an elf," Edward whispered to me in the backseat of Dr. Cullen's Mercedes. "But my mom said I was too short."

"That's ridiculous!" I said.

Edward frowned, "No, it isn't. I would never want to do anything to compromise the integrity of Tolkien's work and he says, 'For they are a little people, smaller than Dwarves; less stout and stocky, that is, even when they are not actually much shorter'," he quoted. "It describes me perfectly…"

I really didn't want our date to start off with Edward looking so dejected. "But hobbits are also awesome! I mean, ultimately, it's the Hobbits that save the day, right?"

"Yeah, I guess you're right," he said with a small smile, not entirely convinced.

So, as quietly as I could, I told him, "And I happen to think Hobbits are much cuter than Elves."

There was a loud, choking sound from the front seat. I glanced at Dr. Cullen, who seemed to be having trouble with a coughing fit.

"Are you all right, Dad?" Edward asked, worriedly.

"Yeah, just fine, son," Dr. Cullen said between coughs as he pounded his chest with his fist.

It took another few moments before Dr. Cullen could catch his breath. I looked him over once more. He had extensions of long, blond hair that flowed freely down his back, except for a few strands that were braided back into a ponytail. His ears were pointed, and he wore a deep green costume with a hooded cape and a bow and arrow at his side.

He looked good. Like really, really good.

I turned my attention back to Edward, who was giving me a suspicious look. He also wore pointed ears, but his hair was his own and more wild and curly than I had ever seen it before.

Yeah, Hobbits were definitely cuter than Elves.

When we arrived at the movie theater, I was a little distraught to find that there was a long line of people waiting and most of them were in some sort of costume (though none of them came even close to the accuracy and precision of Edward's outfit). I felt ridiculously out of place in my stupid, boring, normal human clothes. Some of the girls looked incredible in their medieval-like costumes.

Edward's arm immediately shot out to stop me when I started walking. "Where are you going?"

"Um, to the end of the line?"

"I don't think so; I've got connections."

Sigh. He was so cute when he was happy. I followed him to the very front of the line, where a group of people sat in front of what looked like a _Lord of the Rings_ board game. As soon as they saw us approaching, a boy dressed as a dwarf jumped up and held out his hand to Edward. "Vedui' il'er," he said welcomingly.

Edward took his hand and shook it. "Nae saian luume.'"

The boy turned towards me and smiled. "Mani he essa en lle?"

"Melamin, Bella," Edward replied. As much as I enjoyed his Elvish, this was going to get old very fast.

"Vanimle sila tiri," the boy said smoothly, now taking my hand and kissing it. It was kind of disgusting, even if the beard was fake.

I turned back to Edward in confusion, only to find a stony look on his face. "She doesn't speak Elvish," he said a little aggressively.

The boy's smile didn't waver. "Ah, I just said that your beauty shines bright. Edward is a lucky Hobbit."

My cheeks flooded with color. I looked over at Edward, who was studying his hairy Hobbit feet a little too thoroughly.

Dr. Cullen seemed to be having another coughing fit.

At ten o'clock, Edward brought out a basket of food from the car. We had been waiting in line for two hours, which was nothing compared to the two nights Edward's friends had spent in front of the theater just to be the first in line to see the movie.

I found out that Edward had met Laurent, Victoria, and James through his online role-playing group (I really needed to look up what role-playing was). The three of them gathered around the small LotR Trivial Pursuit game-board, while Edward and I opted to sit in cushy lawn chairs that he had brought. The date was perfect even though it wasn't actually the romantic, candle-lit first date I had always expected. That is, until Edward placed a picnic blanket on the ground and lit up a few tea candles.

Chocolate covered strawberries, peanut-butter cookies, and apples with caramel were placed on the blanket with Edward's precision and care. He poured sparkling apple cider into crystal wine glasses and gave the most profound and thoughtful toast before lightly clinging our glasses together.

It really is too bad that we didn't get to eat or drink any of it.

Right as I took the first sip, the theater doors opened up and all hell broke loose. What was wrong with LotR fans? I swore it was as though a thousand lost souls were clamoring to cross from purgatory into the kingdom of heaven. There was pushing, hitting, and clawing as the entire crowd attempted to get the best seats in the theater.

And once we were actually there, in the darkened theater, eating popcorn and watching the movie, people kept shouting random things at the screen. This was made infinitely worse when half the theater would then yell at that one person to shut up. It was about two hours into the movie. My eyes were getting droopy, and I was finding it hard to follow the story with the constant interruptions.

It was the time of my life.

Whenever an Orc would come out on screen, Edward would nudge my arm and wink at me. His wink took my breath away. On the other hand, he would scoff and scowl whenever Legolas had a line. His reactions were so predictable and cute that I found myself watching him more than the movie. If he noticed, he didn't say anything.

I was just losing the battle of keeping my eyes open, when I felt a small pressure on my hand. Immediately at attention, I looked over at Edward. He was staring intently down at my hand, as his fingers traced patterns along my own. He threaded our fingers together and looked up at me to see if I was all right with it.

My breathing stopped.

I tightened my grip on his hand and turned back to the screen. There was a large battle going on in the movie with plenty of "hot Orc-meat" but I couldn't see any of it. The electricity that buzzed between my body and Edward's blinded me, setting my soul on fire. The passion I felt for him flooded me to the point where I thought my head would explode if I didn't stand up in the theater and scream at the top of my lungs that I loved Edward Cullen. Part of me believed that if I did, he just might scream it back.

_**. . .**_

"So you had a good time?" Edward asked me for the twentieth time since we had gotten out of the movie.

"Of course I did, Edward," I responded again. It had been the most wonderful night of my life, but I thought it might be a little pathetic for me to tell him that. "Did you have a good time?"

"Yes. Frankly, it was probably the most wonderful night of my life."

Oh.

"Although," Edward continued thoughtfully, "I do wish they hadn't gotten such a pansy to play Legolas."

I laughed at that, before turning back to Edward. He was staring at me. I stared back. Dr. Cullen interrupted us by clearing his throat. He must be getting sick…

"Bella, we're here," he said. I looked around and was surprised to find that we were parked in front of my father's house.

Edward hopped out of the car and opened my door for me. Such a gentleman. "I have something for you," he said as he opened the trunk of the car and pulled out a beautiful bouquet of flowers.

"What's this?" I asked, as he handed them to me.

"They're, uh, they're daisies." He nervously ran his hands through his hair. "They make me think about you."

"Really? Why is that?"

He shook his head and smiled. "I'll tell you about it later. I think your father is waiting for you."

I looked at the front porch and frowned when I saw my dad's silhouette leaning in the doorway. I wasn't especially surprised that Charlie had waited up until 4:30 in the morning for me to return. But did he seriously have to wait in the door like that?

I turned back to Edward. "Sorry about that."

"It's not a problem."

What were we supposed to do now? It's not like I could kiss or hug him with both our dads watching. Edward seemed to be thinking the same thing as I was because he held out his hand. "Thank you for the pleasure of your company tonight."

"And thank you for inviting me," I replied, shaking his hand. Slowly our hands separated, and I turned around to walk to my house.

"Bella, wait!" Edward called after me.

I spun around and walked back to him. "Yes?"

"Er, there was something I wanted to tell you."

"What's up?" _What's up!_ He'd just given me the best night of my life and all I can say is _what's up_!

"It's just that, um, well… I'm sorry about the picnic. I promise to do better next time," he said.

"Next time?" I asked hopefully.

"I mean, do you want there to be a next time?"

Hell yes, I wanted there to be a next time.

"Hell yes, I want there to be a next time." I suppressed a cringe at my use of the word "hell," but Edward laughed, and I ended up laughing with him.

"Good night."

"Good night, Edward." I said with one last wistful look into his eyes.

I was beginning to walk back towards the house again, when Edward's hand caught me around the wrist and pulled me back towards him.

"There was something else I wanted to tell you," he whispered.

"What is it?" I whispered back.

He paused and looked down at his furry Hobbit feet, instead of in my eyes. "It's just that, I think you looked really pretty tonight."

I was floating as I walked back to Charlie (which was really hard for someone as clumsy as me to accomplish).

"So, I take it the date went pretty well," Charlie said.

"It was perfect." I watched Edward and Dr. Cullen drive away.

Charlie shocked me by saying, "I guess he is a nice kid."

"Yeah, I'll admit I was surprised that you didn't freak out on him today. I was worried you'd have your gun with you or threaten to dismember him the first time you guys met."

"Oh, that wasn't the first time we've met," Charlie said smugly.

"What?" I snapped.

He had a gleam in his eye as he said, "The first time I met Edward Cullen was the day after you moved here. He came to the station and asked my permission to court you."

Huh?

Charlie's expression was priceless. "I still have his business card."

_**. . .**_

**A/N**: Thanks to xsecretxkeeperx and acciodanrad9 for being incredible betas! Also, thank you so much to everyone who reviewed, favorited, or alerted this story – you have no idea how much it means to me!

Next Up..._ Outtake: The Boy and His Business Card_


	7. Outtake: The Boy and His Business Card

**An Introduction to Swirl and Daisy: The Non-Romantic Romance**

Disclaimer: Any Twilight characters that may appear in this story belong to Stephenie Meyer. The remainder is my original work. No reproduction is allowed without my written consent.

_Outtake: The Boy and His Business Card_

_**. . .**_

Of three things I was absolutely certain:

1. Bella Swan was beautiful.

2. Bella Swan was fascinating.

3. Bella Swan had asked me if I was gay within two minutes of meeting me.

That was going to be a problem.

_**. . .**_

**Basic Public Speaking, 2nd Edition - The Roadmap to Confident Communications**.

By Douglas Parker

_Know the needs of your audience and match your contents to their needs_.

What were Chief Swan's needs?

He needed to know that I liked his daughter… a lot. He needed to know that if he gave me his approval, I had every intention of courting his daughter and that I would do it honorably.

_Know what your strong and weak points are._

Strong points:

1. I had a 4.0 GPA, which showed that I cared about school.

2. I had a job, which showed that I was responsible.

3. I had extra-curricular activities, which showed I was well-rounded.

4. I had no misdemeanors on my record, which showed that I wasn't a hoodlum. I figured this would be the most important thing to the Chief of Police, and I was more relieved than ever that I had decided not to cut school that one day last year for the _Lord of the Rings_ convention in Seattle. I'm sure truancy was as bad a crime as any in his book.

Weaknesses:

1. I had only just met Bella Swan this morning.

2. I didn't know very much about Bella Swan.

3. I found Bella Swan very… appealing in ways I'm sure her father would disapprove of.

_Know your material_.

This… was a problem. I had only known Bella Swan for approximately eight hours, and seven of those hours had been spent in other classes, away from her. Some people might assume that I was jumping the gun by going to her father so soon for permission, but I knew that if I hesitated for even a moment, some other student (probably that hooligan, Mike Newton) would swoop in and try to steal her heart.

I couldn't risk that. I wouldn't be thwarted in my efforts to attain Bella's affections just because I was worried that some people might think it a little too soon than was socially acceptable.

"Mr. Cullen, the chief will see you in his office now," the receptionist called from behind her desk.

My gut tightened as I stood up. My hands grew sweaty and I nervously wiped them on my slacks. Dad stood up next to me, and put a hand on my shoulder. "You'll do fine, son," he said encouragingly. "Are you ready to go in?"

"Yes, I think so. But, um, I think this is probably something I should do alone," I answered, hoping he wouldn't be too offended by my dismissal.

He nodded his head in understanding. "As long as you're sure about that. Make sure to straighten your tie and look him in the eye when you talk. Your mom and I are proud of you, even if the answer is a no," he said with a pat on my back.

I quickly straightened my tie and put on my suit jacket, before grabbing my briefcase and taking a few relaxing breaths.

"Oh, and Edward, you probably don't want to bring that with you," Dad said, nodding at the book in my hand.

Douglas Parker's book on public speaking was like a life vest to me and I realized I had been clutching it in my hand rather tightly. I hesitantly handed it over to my father, before nervously turning on my heel and walking to Chief Swan's office. I reminded myself over and over again that I had given many successful presentations to Mrs. Evans for E.C.T-shirts and I needed to treat this similarly. I would present him with the facts, tell him what I was asking, and let him make the decision.

I took one last, deep breath, trying to recall all the tips I had learned about public speaking, before knocking. This was it.

"Come in," a deep voice called. I anxiously opened the door and walked in to meet my fate, whatever it may be.

_Body language is important_.

I walked over to Chief Swan's desk as confidently as I could and shook his hand with a firm and steady grip.

_Speak with conviction as if you really believe in what you are saying_.

"Hello, my name is Edward Anthony Cullen, age thirteen, currently enrolled in Forks Middle School. I am here to speak to you about a matter of great importance, and by the end of our meeting, I am sure that I will have convinced you that I am the best possible candidate for the position I am inquiring about."

_Use audio-visual aids or props for enhancement if appropriate and necessary_.

I opened my briefcase and handed him a binder. "This is my portfolio. In there you will find my resume, past report cards, and a letter of recommendation from my mother."

_Maintain sincere eye contact with your audience_.

I looked Chief Swan dead in the eye. "I am positive if your answer is yes that you will not regret it. I will make sure you do not regret it."

_Pause. Allow yourself and your audience a little time to reflect and think_.

I paused.

_Speak to your audience, listen to their questions, respond to their reactions, adjust and adapt._

"Do you have any questions, sir?"

Chief Swan was leaning back in his chair, assessing me with, what I thought was, an amused look. Did he think this was funny?

It was a few moments before he spoke. "Why don't you sit down, Edward?"

I took the seat in front of his desk, anxiously awaiting his decision. Chief Swan sat up in his chair and began going through the paperwork I had presented him in my portfolio.

"I see here that you have a 4.0, that's very impressive."

"Yes, sir. And I have never missed a day of school unless it was due to illness, and even those are rare. I believe that shows responsibility. I give you my guarantee that I will always be dependable, if your answer is yes."

Chief Swan grunted in acknowledgment and it grew silent while he continued to finger through my paperwork. My heart nearly stopped beating as I caught a glimpse of a picture of Bella on his desk. She was smiling brightly as she pulled a cake out of an oven and it looked as if it had only been taken a few months ago. She looked so natural and happy in the picture and so different from any of the other girls in school. God, she was beautiful.

"But don't you think you're a little young?" he asked, interrupting my thoughts.

I had anticipated this question. The picture on his desk of Bella smiling inspired me to answer with conviction. "I know people may say that thirteen is young, but my mom always told me that when you know it, you just know. I know this is what I want, my heart knows what it wants, and I hope that my youth won't get in the way of that."

He glanced up from the paperwork at my words. "But it says here that you own and run your own t-shirt business. Why do you want to be a volunteer on top of that?"

"A volunteer?"

"Aren't you here to apply for the volunteer deputy program?" Chief Swan asked.

I sat there, frozen, as I tried to figure out what he was talking about. It dawned on me that I hadn't once mentioned Bella in the entire time we had been speaking. I was such a moron.

"Yes, sir. Yes, I am." Apparently I was also a liar.

"Good," Chief Swan said as he leaned back in his chair. "Then I only have one more question for you."

I gulped. The sweat on my palms and my racing heart were making me increasingly uncomfortable while I waited for this final question. I didn't want to lie, but my future happiness depended on me getting on Chief Swan's good side.

"Why does your mother mention that she is positive you will treat my daughter with the utmost care and respect in her letter of recommendation?"

Oh. Shit.

_Add humor whenever appropriate and possible_.

"Why were the suspenders arrested?" Damn word vomit!

Chief Swan just continued to stare at me with a stony expression.

I only had two choices in this situation. I could give up and flee like a coward, leaving behind any chance I had at courting Bella Swan. Or I could fight for her, like Aragorn fought for Arwen. Well, not quite like that, since we weren't in Middle Earth.

It was an easy choice. I persevered. "For holding up a pair of pants."

I saw Chief Swan's mustache twitch, but out of anger or out of humor, I did not know.

He leaned forward in his seat once more and looked me dead in the eye. His public speaking skills were a lot more intimidating than mine. "Okay, Edward, you got to level with me here and be honest. What does Bella have to do with this?"

"I think she's my soul mate." There would be no more lying for me, ever again.

Chief Swan's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "And what makes you think that?"

I hesitated, trying to come up with a way to explain the deep connection I had felt with Bella the moment our eyes met. "We… had a moment," was the best I could come up with.

He snorted. "You had a moment?"

"Yes," I answered earnestly. Screw being subtle; I was going to just throw it all out there. "And it was the best moment of my life."

"Was it now?"

"Yes," I answered again, as genuinely as possible. "It's like when I look into her eyes all the air leaves my body, but instead of feeling suffocated, I feel like I'm floating and like I'll never need to breathe again as long as I can see her," I tried to explain.

"But you've only known her for a few hours," he countered.

I was happy that I had prepared an answer for this question ahead of time. "My personal hero, J.R.R. Tolkien says, 'All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us.' I could have wasted a few more days getting to know Bella, only to discover what I had already known - that she's perfect. And by that time, it may have already been too late. I would rather secure your permission now, sir."

Chief Swan seemed to be considering my words. After a few moments, he finally spoke. "If I agree to this, are you going to treat my daughter with respect?"

"Absolutely," I answered with complete and utter sincerity.

"And you'll keep your paws to yourself?"

"Absolutely," I responded again.

Chief Swan sighed a little before rising out of his chair and walking around the desk to where I was sitting. He hovered over me threateningly before saying, "If you hurt my daughter or if she comes back to me in less than perfect condition, you and I are going to have a major problem."

I nodded my head fervently. "Yes, sir."

"Okay, son." He held out his hand to me.

Relief washed through me as I shook Chief Swan's hand. "Thank you so much. You won't regret it." I quickly stood up from my chair and grabbed my briefcase. "This is my business card." I handed him my freshly printed card. "It has my home phone, beeper, and fax number. Please feel free to contact me whenever you want, day or night."

He took the card and glanced at it with a weird expression. "You sure you're only thirteen?" he asked offhandedly.

"I would be more than happy to submit a copy of my birth certificate if you require one," I said, worried that he thought I had lied about more than one thing.

Chief Swan's loud laugh startled me. "No, Edward, that won't be necessary." He went back around his desk and took his seat again. "It was nice meeting you. Thank you for asking my permission before you did anything with my daughter."

"It was nice meeting you as well, sir. I'm sure I'll be seeing you soon." I turned to walk out the door.

"Yes, I suppose I'll be seeing you this upcoming Saturday," Chief Swan said.

I spun back towards him. "You will?"

He had a smug look on his face as he said. "Of course. At eight AM, you start your first shift as a volunteer deputy."

_**. . .**_

"How'd it go?" my dad asked as I walked out of Chief Swan's office.

"Couldn't have gone better," I said with a wide smile.

_**. . .**_

Chief Swan tried to fight the grin that spread across his face as he watched the kid stumble out of his office in that ridiculous suit and tie. Shaking his head, he glanced back down at the business card he held in his hand.

Edward Cullen was a strange boy. And Charlie was sure he didn't have a shot in hell with Bella.

_**. . .**_

Thanks to **xsecretxkeeperx** (_Lessons in Forbidden Love_) and **acciodanrad9** (_Times Infinity_) for betaing my fic, and to** ms. ambrosia** (_blossom_) and **AcrossTheSkyInStars** (_The Hunt_) for pre-reading the outtake and telling me what they thought. All these ladies are AMAZING! Please check out their stories!

And all the reviewers and people who have been pimping my story, seriously - you all rock my world. Thank you all so much! You have no idea how much the response to this story means to me!


	8. The First Time He Kissed Her

**An Introduction to Swirl and Daisy: The Non-Romantic Romance**

Disclaimer: Any Twilight characters that may appear in this story belong to Stephenie Meyer. The remainder is my original work. No reproduction is allowed without my written consent.

_Chapter Seven: The First Time He Kissed Her_

_**. . .**_

_December 23, 2001_

_Dear Diary,_

_Yesterday I called Edward and we talked for a while. He told me that he loved talking to me and that it was even better than online role-playing with his LotR friends. I can't even begin to tell you how hard it was for me not to squeal out loud when he said that._ _He's invited me over to his house later today, and I'm SO excited to give him his Christmas presents!_

_In the last five days, we've already gone to see the Lord of the Rings TWICE and that's not even counting the first time we saw it at the midnight showing._ _I have to say, the movie itself is getting kind of boring, but both times Edward held my hand through the entire movie! OMG, I can't even begin to tell you how perfect and cute it is! Last time, he just reached over and grabbed it without even asking me – I like that side of Edward!_

_But seriously, how hard is it to get a freakin' first kiss? I want a movie kiss! Something romantic and sweet. I just can't help the urge! It's growing!_

_I should probably go get ready…_

_Bella Swan_

_P.S. I want my first kiss!_

_**. . .**_

Being in Edward's bedroom had always given me butterflies. No matter how many times I'd entered his room in the past few months, it was always a thrill to walk in and see the same hand-painted Elvish on the wall and the gold and blue coverlet on his bed.

This time was different. Edward had redecorated. Kind of.

It surprised even me how quickly my eyes were able to find the two new additions to Edward's room, considering that the size of the space was massive in comparison to the two picture frames, each holding a four by six inch photo. But there they were on his desk. One was a picture of me standing at the dance with a camera in hand, oblivious to the fact that a picture was being taken of me. The other was a picture of Edward and me dancing (before the epic failure of Alice f-word Brandon) with his arms around my waist and my hands around his neck.

I walked over to Edward's desk and picked up the picture of us dancing.

"Where did you get this?" I asked, startled by the look of utter contentment displayed on both mine and Edward's faces.

Edward was doing that weird thing again where he refused to look me in the eye as he shuffled his feet and tugged at his hair. "Well, um, I took the first one when you weren't looking, and my mom took that one while we were dancing. You don't mind it, do you?"

"Yeah, I definitely mind that you have a copy of this and I don't," I said.

Edward's face lit up with that amazing smile I loved so much, and then we did that thing we always do where we stare at each other with goofy expressions. To be honest, it was getting kind of old. There was only so long you could stare at someone (though Edward's staring shelf-life was a lot longer than most people's) before you _needed_ to move your relationship to the next level.

I'd been thinking about it a lot lately (since about three seconds after I met Edward), and I was ready for us to move our relationship to the next level. Renee had always told me to let the boy set the pace. The problem was that Edward seemed content moving forward at the pace of a dying snail. Even _Charlie_ would be content at the rate we were progressing. It was maddening!

"Do you want to see what I got you for Christmas?" Edward asked.

"Oh, you didn't have to get me anything," I said.

Edward playfully argued, "But you got me something."

"Well… yeah, I did," I conceded lamely. I had actually gotten Edward two gifts. The first I knew Edward was going to freak out about and absolutely adore. The second was a bit more personal. I actually hadn't one hundred percent decided if I was going to give it to him yet. Luckily, it was small enough that it didn't need to be wrapped, and could be hidden it in my hoodie pocket. If I decided not to give it to him, he would never know.

I walked over to where I had accidentally/on-purpose dropped his first present next to the bed. This had become a little game to me. It was always fun to see how Edward would react whenever I was within a yard of his bed. Normally his face would turn a pale shade of pink, his mouth would pop open, and he'd get a concentrated expression, as if he was reciting times tables in his head.

The best part, though, was when he would try to find some excuse for me not to be near the bed. One time he actually told me that he had broken the headboard, so it was a safety precaution not to go near it. I couldn't imagine Edward doing anything with so much force that it would inflict damage to the headboard, but then again I had no idea what he was like in bed.

Okay, even in _my_ mind that sounded dirty.

True to our game, when I turned back to Edward his face was pink, and he had on that weird expression. "Um, the headboard still isn't structurally sound. Maybe we should, you know, open presents over by the window… where there is a cool breeze… and you are safe."

He was too easy. I smugly obliged his request, walking over to the large, bay window and taking a seat on the window bench, while he went to his closet to grab two packages. The butterflies made an encore appearance when he sat next to me and held out the first gift. "This one first," he said.

I dug through the tissue paper to the bottom of the bag, pulling out a T-shirt. It had "I Love Orc-Meat" on the front and the back said, "Big Thighs + Loin Cloths Kick Legol-Ass Any Day." I laughed, not only at the design, but at the realization I'd probably be getting T-shirts for every Christmas and birthday present as long as Edward and I were affiliated.

"I designed it for you," Edward said. There was so much excitement in his tone that I laughed even harder.

"I figured," I said. "Thank you so much, I love it!"

I put the T-shirt back in the gift bag and looked up at Edward to find him studying me in a peculiar way. The smile was still on his face, but it was different now – it was more guarded, and I didn't understand the reason for the shift. "This is for you as well," he said, handing me the flat, square package that was much heavier than the other present.

He watched me closely as I opened the gift, and I hoped the gasp I'd released upon unwrapping the leather-bound photo album was the reaction he was looking for. I flipped the cover open and saw the picture of us dancing. The next page and all the pages after were filled with photos of me that I never knew he had taken, some with me sitting with Angela and others during random school events that we'd photographed together for the yearbook. There were also a lot of pictures of me and him in Yearbook class.

"How did you get these?" I asked in awe, looking through one picture after another of us sitting in front of the computers, making up task lists, or simply gazing into each other's eyes.

"Um, that really doesn't, ya know, matter," he stumbled over his words. I looked at him curiously, before he hurried to ask, "So, do you like it?"

"Like it? Edward, I _love_ this." He had gone through and embellished each page with drawings of daisies, and I silently traced each one with my finger until I got to the last page. I froze. "What is this?" I asked of the peculiar drawing.

Edward cleared his throat gruffly. "That's a fanart drawing I did of Aragorn and Arwen together in Rivendell."

I looked closer at the drawing. "But Edward, Arwen's face doesn't really look like Arwen. It kind of looks like... _me_."

"Well, I may have, um, _altered_, the drawing a little bit to put you in there instead of Arwen. I did the same with Aragorn, except that it's me there, not you," he murmured in a lower voice.

I kept my head down and my eyes focused on the page so Edward couldn't see me trying not to laugh. It wasn't that I didn't find the picture endearing; as a matter of fact, I thought it was the sweetest thing ever. In about thirty seconds Edward was going to realize how perfect for each other we were. "This is the best gift anyone has ever given me," I said, looking up. "I love it. Thank you _so_ much."

That beaming smile returned to Edward's face. "Mine next!" I handed him the long, thin package, now anxious for him to open his gift. It had taken most of my first paycheck to afford the replica of Aragorn's sword, but the way Edward's face lit up when he opened the box made every cent worth it. Judging by the three times we had already gone to see _Lord of the Rings_, and taking into account the lovely picture Edward had drawn of himself as Aragorn, I figured I had probably made the right choice with the purchase.

"This is amazing!" Edward practically squealed, pulling the sword out of the box and brandishing it in the air.

"Well, I figured that you might like to go as Aragorn to the midnight showing next year since you'll have outgrown your hobbit costume." I was thrilled he seemed so delighted in my gift. "But there is one thing - the guy I bought it from told me it was bad luck to give someone I like a sword, knife, or dagger, so you have to buy it from me."

Edward laughed. "Bad luck?"

"Well apparently, it _cuts_ the friendship. Do you really want dark forces working against us? I think one shiny penny is a fair price."

Edward dug into his jeans, muttering, "Yeah, we definitely don't want that." His hand surfaced from his pocket victorious and dropped a penny in my palm – I would treasure that penny always. Our eyes met and we shared one of our infinite stares, contentment mirrored in both our smiles. It was a perfect moment, but it still wasn't enough for me.

"I have one more thing for you," I whispered, worried about breaking the magical connection I felt with him. This gift had the potential to either seal our future together or diminish it completely.

He nodded encouragingly, and I reached inside my hoodie pocket to retrieve the second gift. "You wouldn't be Aragorn," I said, "if you didn't have Arwen's Evenstar." I held out the replica of the pendant necklace Arwen had given Aragorn to represent her love and devotion to him. My gaze dropped to the floor as I continued with the rest of the speech I had prepared. "Only, it isn't Arwen's Evenstar I'm giving you. I'm offering mine, if you want it."

Hopefully the undertone of my metaphor was clear. I was offering my heart to him with this Evenstar. He could take it or leave it. It was silent in the room, and I couldn't bring myself to look at him until he breathed a nearly silent, "Bella."

Slowly, I lifted my eyes to his face. He sat there, mouth slightly agape, for what felt like forever. _Say something_, I silently willed. He didn't. "This was a stupid idea," I said, humiliation crashing over me like a bucket of cold water. My cheeks flushed a deep shade of red as I prepared to get up and leave.

"Wait!" Edward shouted. My skin throbbed from where he had reached out to grab my wrist. Heat and electricity flowed from his touch. It was unnerving. Jerking forward slightly, his eyes held mine with an imploring look for only a second more before they flickered down to my lips, and I understood his unasked question.

Oh. My. God.

Oh, my God. Oh, my God. Edward Cullen wanted to kiss me. Oh, my God.

I didn't know how to indicate that I was more than all right with it, so I settled for leaning closer to him. I could hear his breathing accelerate and imagined that his heart was beating as fast as mine. Slowly, we inched towards each other, gauging the other's reaction. Time seemed to accelerate, and yet the moment couldn't come quickly enough.

A small smile flickered on Edward's face. "Amin mela lle," he whispered, before my eyes fluttered close and his lips met mine.

And we were kissing. And it was glorious.

And apparently Edward didn't know what to do anymore than I did because our lips touched for a few more moments (I counted up to three), before he pulled back and gave me the most breathtaking smile I had ever seen.

"That was wonderful," he said. "Exactly as I always imagined it would be!"

"Really?" I asked. It wasn't that kissing Edward hadn't been the best three moments of my entire life (because they definitely were). It just wasn't the movie kiss I had always imagined.

"Yes." He was so elated and sincere that I couldn't doubt him. I'd have bet the smile that lit my face at his declaration was as bright as his. "Can, um, can we do it again?"

I eagerly nodded and leaned in. He had just started kissing me once more when there was a loud knock on his bedroom door, and it abruptly opened to a woman walking in, carrying a laundry basket. "Edward, honey, some of the stains on your bed sheets weren't coming out so I went ahead and-"

"MOM!" Edward shrieked.

The woman's head snapped up from the laundry basket, and my eyes practically fell out of my head when I recognized her.

For an immeasurable moment the three of us sat in complete silence, the puzzle pieces falling together in my head. I didn't know what was weirder – that Edward's mother had walked in on us kissing or that she was the same person as our yearbook teacher, _Ms. Evans_.

"Is there something you forgot to tell me, Edward?"

_**. . .**_

**A/N:** Thanks to xsecretxkeeperx and acciodanrad9 for being amazing betas! Thank you to everyone who has pimped out this story! I wish I could thank you all individually, but I think the list would be longer than this chapter. Seriously, it has meant the world to me! Also, thanks to everyone who has reviewed, alerted, or favorited this story. Know that I read and treasure every single review that lands in my inbox!

Coming to you Valentine's Day 2002… _Chapter Nine: An Interlude: The Introduction of Swirl_.


	9. An Interlude: The Introduction of Swirl

**An Introduction to Swirl and Daisy: The Non-Romantic Romance**

Disclaimer: Any Twilight characters that may appear in this story belong to Stephenie Meyer. The remainder is my original work. No reproduction is allowed without my written consent.

**A/N**: This chapter is dedicated to **The Perv Pack**.

_Chapter Eight: An Interlude: The Introduction of Swirl_

_**. . .**_

_Comp520072: Edward Cullen to Bella Swan_

I ignored him, deciding instead to continue working on the Basketball page of the yearbook.

_Comp520072: Edward Cullen to Bella Swan_

I ignored him again, and again, and again. "I'm going to keep doing this until you reply to me," he turned to me and said. My heart was beating a million miles per second, but I managed to stay focused on the computer screen. "Fine. Have it your way."

_Comp520072: Edward Cullen to Bella Swan_

_Comp520072: Edward Cullen to Bella Swan_

_Comp520072: Edward Cullen to Bella Swan_

_Comp520072: Edward Cullen to Bella Swan_

_Comp520072: Edward Cullen to Bella Swan_

_Comp520072: Edward Cullen to Bella Swan_

_Comp520072: Edward Cullen to Bella Swan_

_Comp520072: Edward Cullen to Bella Swan_

_Comp520072: Edward Cullen to Bella Swan_

"Okay, will you stop it already? What do you want?"

_Comp520072: I'm sorry._

"Oh please! Tell it to somebody who cares." I turned back to my computer.

"But you don't understand—"

"Of course I don't understand! How could I possibly understand something you never explained to me?" I asked.

"But I've been trying to explain it to you—"

"I don't care, Edward." Despite how much I said it, the fact of the matter was that I _did_ care. I cared so much my heart hurt.

Ignoring Edward for the past week and a half had been torture, and he hadn't made it easier. On a daily basis he would come and drop a bouquet of daisies off at my house, leaving the most sentimental and beautiful notes with them. Of course, after reading them, I'd ritually burned each one with a scented candle.

Maybe that was mean, but I couldn't bring myself to forgive him. Every time I thought back to that day, the humiliation would increase tenfold.

_**. . .**_

_Ms. Evans was Edward's mom. Edward's mom equaled Ms. Evans. Ms. Evans and Edward's mom were one and the same._

No matter how I rearranged the words in my head, I always came to the same conclusion – this was not good.

I didn't know what was more humiliating: that Edward's mom had walked in on us while we were kissing, or that I had poured my heart out to Ms. Evans in the museum bathroom about a boy that turned out to be her son. Did she know that I hadn't known who she was? And how had I not realized she was his mother? I mean, I'd become pretty stupid about anything non-Edward related, but Ms. Evans _was_ related to him. Literally. She'd given birth to him.

"Hello, Bella," Edward's mom/Ms. Evans said.

I looked over at Edward for reassurance, but he appeared to be frozen. _Coward_. I ventured on alone. "Um, hello, Ms. Evans."

"Oh, you really don't have to call me that while we're at the house," she said. "You can call me Esme. Or, if it makes you more comfortable, Mrs. Cullen."

_Mrs. Cullen_. Huh. I guess there was kind of a large possibility I would also be a Mrs. Cullen one day (if I ever decided to forgive Edward). Before I could get distracted with that train of thought, I answered her with a positively brilliant, "Okay."

We sat there for another ten seconds (I counted) before Esme/Mrs. Cullen/Ms. Evans determined I had suffered long enough and decided to kindly remove herself from Edward's room. "Well, I'm going to leave this here." She plopped the laundry basket down on the floor. "When Edward comes around, please ask him to come see me after you leave. And, I'm going to leave this door wide open for now. Carlisle and I are both right next door if you need us."

My face flooding with heat, and I was too mortified to answer. She had pulled the "leave the door wide open" card. She had seen _everything_.

"Oh, and Bella? Don't give him too hard of a time. It's never easy being the teacher's kid," she added. I had just kissed Edward Cullen and his mother was _winking_ at me. There were no words…

Edward hadn't moved a muscle since his mother's appearance. I shook my head and stood up, needing to get out of this weird dimension where everything was backwards.

"Where are you going?" he murmured._ Oh, so he is alive._

"I'm leaving," I said, collecting my things and debating whether to leave my presents here. They were good memories of all the times I had shared with Edward. If we couldn't work it out, I wanted something wonderful to remember our time together.

"Wait! I can explain." Edward jumped from the chair and snatched my photo album from me.

"How, Edward? It's been months and you never bothered to explain anything! How can I trust you if you won't trust me?" I attempted to grab the photo album back, but instead knocked it from his arms. It tumbled open to the first page, the one with the picture of us dancing. I couldn't contain the tears as I ran from his room, leaving the album behind in my haste to get away.

_**. . .**_

The bell rang and I finally escaped Yearbook and Edward's relentless attempts to get back in my good graces. I avoided him as much as I could during the rest of the school day, and at the end of it, I went home to wait for him to show up with another bouquet of daisies and a love note.

Except that he never did. My cinnamon-scented candle and I sat in the living room for hours waiting for him. I began to panic when Charlie came home at seven. Edward would never risk showing up while my dad was here.

_Oh, my God. Was he giving up?_ _Had I driven him away?_ Moisture filled my eyes at that thought. I was only going to make him suffer a few days more before I forgave him, but I might not even get that chance now. The tears flowed freely as I considered a world without Edward in my life. It was a devastating place, with no hope and no sun. I wouldn't love again because he _was_ my one true love.

How stupid and foolish had I been? What was the big deal anyway? So he had lied to me and hidden his mother's secret identity. Didn't super heroes do that all the time? Yeah, it hurt, and I still couldn't look at Ms. Evans/Mrs. Cullen/Esme without blushing the color of a fire-truck, but he had been trying to apologize and I wouldn't listen.

Charlie cleared his throat, effectively interrupting my self-loathing.

"Dad, I'm _really_ not in the mood to talk right now," I said, wiping my cheeks.

"That's all right because I don't want to talk about whatever this is, either." He awkwardly hovered there.

After a few moments of this, I asked, "Is there something I can do for you?"

"Nope. But maybe we should listen to some music." He turned the corner radio onto my favorite station and left the room._ Weird_.

It was when I stood up to get a tissue that a familiar voice came over the speakers.

"_Hello, what can I do for you?"_

_"I'd like to dedicate a song to someone."_

_"And what song is that?"_

_"_Email My Heart_ by Britney Spears."_

_"Okay, well, I don't normally get dudes requesting Britney Spears, here's _Email My Hea_-"_

_"Excuse me, sir, but would you mind if I say something?"_

_"Sure, go ahead, kid."_

_"This is EC to BS. My Arwen, I want you to know that I'm sorry for not telling you that my mom is our teacher. You have no idea how embarrassing she- uh, it can be. I didn't want you to think of me as a freak because your opinion is the one that matters most to me. Forgive me. I miss you and I'm not going to give up on you no matter how many of my love notes you annihilate."_

_"Okay! Well, that's one hell of a dedi-"_

_"One more thing! You looked really pretty today wearing that blue shirt. I wanted you to know that in case I don't get another chance to tell you."_

_"Is that all?"_

_"Yes, sir, I believe so."_

_"Here's _Email My Heart_ going out to Miss Arwen from one very, very, uh, special boy." _

At the sound of Edward's voice, my heart had gone wild. I could _not_ believe he had done that! The lyrics of the song began to play, and my love expanded even more.

_I'm sorry, oh so sorry, can't you give me one more chance to make it all up to you.__  
__E-mail my heart and say our love will never die__  
__and that I know you're out there and I know that you still care.__  
__Email me back and say our love will stay alive.__  
__Forever, Email my heart._

Not for the first time, I wondered how Britney managed to capture the exact emotion behind our relationship. As the song ended, I made a vow to write her a letter to tell her how she saved mine and Edward's love.

Charlie walked into the room. "So are you going to _e-mail his heart_ tonight?" he asked, amused.

"Maybe tomorrow," I answered cheerfully. I wanted to let him off the hook, but one more day wouldn't hurt. Not to mention the extra time might give me the opportunity to figure out exactly who Edward Cullen was.

_**. . .**_

_January 26, 2002_

_Dear Diary,_

_Edward Cullen is my boyfriend! Well, at least, I think he is. We haven't exactly "defined" our relationship since we made up, but seriously, why put a label on something as pure and undeniable as my connection with Edward?_

_I mean, yeah, it would be nice if I could call him my boyfriend, but we don't need that title to know what we mean to each other. Okay, sure, I would appreciate it if I had a little more evidence that Edward and I are on the same page, but Edward has other ways of showing me that he cares for me._

_1) Edward really likes to kiss me._

_We haven't _**_really_**_ kissed, like with tongue or anything, but I think Edward likes to walk me to my classes just so he can kiss me good-bye._

_2) Edward always walks me to class and carries my books._

_Somehow after every class he manages to be in the hallway waiting for me so he can walk me to my next one. He takes my books from me and then holds my hand as we stroll through the hallways. _

_3) He never seems to want our time to end._

_The closer we get to my classroom, the slower we walk until we're standing outside the doorway, and then he gives me back my things and pecks me on the lips. That happens seven times a day and I_ _still can't control the way my heart jumps into my throat every time he touches me._

_But even with everything I can tell from the way Edward acts around me, I want to know more. I'm on a mission. After what happened with Edward's mom, I don't want anything to come between us again._

_Thanks for listening, Diary._

_Bella Swan._

_P.S. Every once in a while I catch a glimpse of Ms. Evans watching us from far away. For some reason, she always looks like she's smiling. Weird, huh?_

_P.P.S. I still blush sometimes._

_**. . .**_

"Fruit Loops," he answered without hesitation.

"_What_? Fruit Loops don't even have marshmallows! And their freaking mascot is a toucan! At least Lucky Charms has the leprechaun."

"Well, I'm not judging by spokesperson. I'm judging by taste and Fruit Loops easily beats out Lucky Charms in a taste test – you don't need milk to enjoy them."

"Lucky Charms are magically delicious," I shot back. "I have to go. Charlie just pulled up." I hung up the phone and ran over to the sink to pretend I was doing the dishes. Charlie had severely restricted my phone privileges after running up a $75 bill from talking with Edward three or four hours every night. I couldn't regret it, though, because those kinds of conversation were my absolute favorite. Sometimes we wouldn't even talk; we would sit on the phone while I read and he role-played online. Just the sound of him breathing (or talking to the computer) was reassuring.

And I felt like we were _finally_ getting to know each other. You could tell so much about a person by what kind of cereal they liked. For instance, because he liked Fruit Loops, I could tell that Edward obviously was an artist (because of the colors) and he ate healthy (because of the fruit). It was becoming easier and easier to understand him.

Unfortunately, getting to know Edward was not the only thing on my plate. School was ramping up, as were Alice f-word Brandon's attempts to destroy mine and Edward's relationship. For the life of me, I couldn't understand why she didn't leave us alone. It's not like we'd ever done anything to her, except fall in love and be happy. She seemed to take personal offense to that, though. Could mere jealousy be the cause of such hate?

"She's up to something," I informed Angela in mid-February.

"Who?" She pulled a notebook out of her locker and stuffed it into her backpack.

"Alice," I hissed. "She's talking to Edward. Look at her! Why is she talking to him?" I was immediately suspicious. Edward would never do anything with Alice, but she was a deceptive little bitch (mental wrist slap) who had a knack for getting her way. He was shaking his head at something and tried to walk away, but she grabbed his wrist and yanked him back. She was touching Edward. I wanted to punch her.

"This is not good," Angela said. That was one thing I loved about her – she never lied.

"You don't know the half of it! Today at lunch Tyler Crowley came up to me and asked me out."

She gasped. "No way!"

"Well, his exact words were, 'Hey, you! Will you go out with me?' I was like, 'Yeah right,' and then ignored him because Edward was sitting at the table with me, and I didn't want him to think I was actually interested."

Angela's face transformed from shock to confusion. "But what does that have to do with Alice?"

I watched Alice talk to Edward for a few seconds more before I turned back to Angela. "Well, here's the thing – why me? It seems like every boy in school knows me, and I don't know them. A few days ago a bunch of guys were, like, yelling at me, trying to offend me or something. Alice is up to something. I know it. She's been out to get me since I first started here and now she's recruited all of her groupies to do it for her."

"Maybe you're being a little paranoid," Angela said, using her cautious tone. "Maybe those boys actually like you?"

"Ugh! I hope not. I hate popular boys; they drive me up the wall." I just didn't get it. One boy was popular because his parents were the town's gossips; another was popular because he was tall and was therefore deemed the athletic type – neither was cute. Edward was amazing in every way a person could be (and he was really good-looking), but he wasn't popular at all. Not that I wanted him to be, though. Popular boys let it go to their heads. I glanced back to where Edward had been standing, and was happy to see he had finally escaped the evil clutches of Alice f-word Brandon.

Angela slammed her locker shut and we started walking to Pre-Algebra. "What are you and Edward doing tonight?"

Ah, a happier train of thought – today was Valentine's Day! "I actually don't know. Edward only told me to be at his house by six. I'm sure whatever he has planned is going to be magnificent, though."

"Oh, really? And what makes you say that?" Angela asked.

"I know Edward. He loves to go over the top with things like this." My mind easily wandered back to our first date where he had brought chocolate covered strawberries. "And I'm pretty positive there isn't going to be any adult supervision. Dr. Cullen and Ms. Ev- uh, his wife are going on a date in Port Angeles."

"Do you think you guys are going to—?"

"Make out?" I finished for her and sat down at my desk. "I _really_ hope so!" A smile lit my face at the thought. It had been almost two months since our first kiss and while our little kisses were nice, I wanted more. Not to mention, I was hoping that after we made out for the first time, Edward would finally ask me to officially be his girlfriend (not that we needed titles or anything).

Alice f-word Brandon walked into Pre-Algebra and ruined my happy thoughts. She smirked at me, actually _smirked_, and I knew immediately that she was aware I had seen her talking to Edward_. Bitch_ (mental wrist slap).

About halfway through the class, a member of student council came in with a pile of carnations to hand out. You could pay two dollars to send a flower-gram to whoever you wanted in the school and help raise money for student council in the process. It was completely lame and outdated. Half of the people sent flowers to themselves so that they wouldn't feel left out. Alice got five carnations – that was absolutely ridiculous, and she looked a little too pleased with herself.

I could almost get behind it, though, when Angela received one from a secret admirer. "I bet that's from Ben Cheney." She blushed a little.

"And Bella Swan," the guy with the carnations called out. I raised my hand, surprised that someone had sent me a flower. _Edward_, I sighed internally. "These are for you," carnation guy said. It wasn't a single flower – one-by-one, he kept filling my desk. I counted up to thirty before the teacher told him to just throw them all on my desk and get back to class.

I stared down at the enormous pile of red carnations and looked at the tag attached to one of the flowers.

"_Annon gur nîn achen."_

I had _no_ idea what that meant. I grabbed another one. "_Melon tiriad chin gîn calar ir gladhach."_

And another. "_Ce i velethril cuil nîn."_

Every single note was written in Elvish. Damn (mental wrist slap) the Elven language! Whatever. We'd talk about that later. For now I was happy to look back at Alice with her puny five carnations.

And I smirked.

After school, I paid a visit to the Thriftway. At first sight, one might think it a cheap supermarket with limited food selection and lousy service, but I now knew its utter brilliance: Valentine's Day cards! And not any Valentine's Day cards, but _Lord of the Rings_ Valentine's Day cards.

I giggled happily as I purchased two boxes; one I would give Edward unopened so he could keep it as a collector's item, and I would fill the other's cards with little phrases that made me think of him (in English). After Edward's little carnation stunt, I felt horrible that I hadn't thought to get him anything. Sure, the LotR cards were a little on the juvenile side (since we weren't in elementary school any more), but it was the sentiment that counted.

The rest of my afternoon I spent writing out the cards and getting ready. My excitement was brimming on uncontrollable when Charlie dropped me off at Edward's house at six o'clock on the dot and warned me that he'd be back to pick me up promptly at ten. My fingers itched to fidget with the blue skirt I had dressed up in, but fortunately the door flew open almost immediately after I had rung the doorbell. And after that, I had plenty to keep me distracted from twiddling with my outfit... like Edward's outfit, for instance.

Everything about it was weird and wrong; he was wearing baggy jeans, a loose T-shirt, and some kind of chain around his neck. I had never seen him wear any of those articles of clothing before. He looked like all the other boys at school – I didn't like it.

"'Sup?" he asked, nodding in my direction._ 'Sup_? Did _Edward_ really say the word 'sup'?

"Um, hello." I stepped inside the doorway. "Am I overdressed?"

"No, of course not!" Edward leaned in to kiss me. "You look just as hot as you usually do."_ Hot_? Did _Edward_ just call me hot?

"Is there something wrong?" I asked. This was like some weird alternate universe. What next? Edward dressed up like a firefighter, a homeless man, or a mafia prince?

"Wrong? No nothing is wrong. Why would anything be wrong?" Edward rattled off. I could almost imagine him twitching under that over-sized tee.

I followed him into the kitchen, where there was a vase filled with different colored daisies. They were beautiful. "What do the daisies stand for?"

"Hmm? Um, nothing really." He uncovered a huge pot on the oven, and stirred whatever was inside. "They're for you, though. Happy Valentine's Day, baby."_ Baby_?

Before I had time to dwell on this new, strange Edward, my nose was attacked by a positively foul stench. Whatever was in that pot smelled absolutely rancid. I buried my nose in the daisies to dilute the smell. "What is that?"

"Gumbo," Edward said, oblivious to my reaction. "It's Cajun food, fairly simple to make. You just take spaghetti sauce, salsa, soy sauce, jalapeños, sausages, asparagus, celery, onions, Anaheim peppers, and a sea food medley, mix them in a big pot and let it sit on the stove for a few hours."

That sounded _disgusting_. If the food tasted half as bad as it smelled then there would be absolutely no kissing/making-out tonight.

"And," Edward continued happily, "we have Cajun hot wings for our main course and sour cream pound cake for dessert."

Yep, kissing/making-out was definitely off the table tonight.

"I'm just going to stick my daisies by the door." I practically ran from the room to escape the repulsive smell. In the living room with fresh air, my brain started working in overdrive. There was something wrong with Edward. Cajun food? Really? On Valentine's Day? Maybe I was holding him to unrealistic standards, but I was hoping for something a bit more… romantic. Like the candlelit picnic at the movies. But instead, he was going to serve me _hot wings_ on Valentine's Day.

"You okay in here?" Edward startled me from my thoughts.

"Yes, I was thinking about how wonderful your carnations were today," I lied. For a brief moment Edward's smile appeared. Then it faltered, leaving him looking sad and somewhat depressed. "And I got you a Valentine's Day present." I handed him the gift bag with both boxes of LotR V-day cards. He stared down at them, expressionless. "One of the boxes is unopened 'cause I thought you might want to keep it, and the other has all the cards filled with notes from me," I explained.

He glanced up at me with that fake smile. "They're great! Thank you so much!" It wasn't exactly the reaction I was going for, and I felt a little disheartened. "But I was actually thinking that maybe it was time to put LotR behind me. I mean, I _am_ thirteen after all."

"But you were thirteen yesterday and you still liked it then…"

"Really, it's not a big deal."

"I disagree. I think it's a huge deal. Maybe we should talk about this?"

Edward shrugged. "Look, it's no problem. I just thought— Do you smell that?"

_Oh, praise heaven he noticed_. "Yes, about the Cajun food… I was thinking—"

"It smells like fire!" Edward shouted, taking off towards the kitchen. A whiff of smoke began clouding the living room air. I put the collar of my shirt over my nose and ran after Edward. When I reached the kitchen, he was already wielding a fire extinguisher at the oven door, small flames flicking out dangerously from within. "Bella, stay back!" he yelled. "The hot wings are on fire!"

Was it wrong that my first thought had been, _Oh, thank God_?

He sprayed the flames, effectively dousing himself and the entire oven in whatever that white, puffy stuff is that puts out fires_. _When the flames were extinguished, we both simply stood there in the middle of the vast kitchen. What was there to say? _Sorry, Edward, but thank God that horrid food is no longer edible? Oh yeah, I'm also glad your clothes were destroyed along with it?_

Edward slowly turned around to look at me. He was actually kind of cute and looked a little like Santa Clause, covered in the fire extinguisher powder. "That," he pointed over to the stove, "has _never_ happened to me before."

I couldn't have helped the giggle that escaped my lips, even if I'd tried. "I'm sorry," I said. "But you have to admit – that's kind of funny."

Edward apparently didn't find the situation as humorous as I did. "More than four thousand people die in America every year because of household fires. Do you find that funny?"

Was he chastising me? Seriously? "No, I don't find that funny."

"Good." Edward turned back to the stove. "What am I going to do with this?"

"Maybe you could go take a shower and I can clean up in here?" I offered.

"Absolutely not. This is my fault and I will clean it up."

"Seriously, Edward, what is your problem?" It was the final straw. Did he have multiple personality disorder?

"I don't have a problem! Except that I wanted this night to be perfect for you and now…" He gave a defeated sigh.

I walked over to him and held out my hand, hoping it would provide him the same comfort it always did for me. "Look, Edward, go take a shower and I'll find some food to microwave so we have something to eat. I promise the mess will still be here when you get back."

He turned and left me in the kitchen, my hand empty. Walking over to the pantry, I found some potatoes and took out my aggression by stabbing holes in them with a knife before sticking them in the microwave. I grabbed butter, sour cream, and cheese, and set them on the table next to the salt and pepper. A bag of frozen corn on the cob was in the freezer. That would round out the meal nicely.

Corn on the cob and potatoes – what a dandy Valentine's Day treat. Sitting at the table, waiting for Edward to come back, I made no effort to hide how extremely pissed at him I was. At least when he came back he was wearing normal clothes again. The chain wasn't even present.

Note: Edward should always keep his hair wet.

Silence was our main talking point while we ate our crappy meal. He held my hand in a vice grip the entire time, like I was going to run away. This made the actual eating part of it kind of difficult, but I wasn't going to complain. After we were finished, we forfeited the dining room table for the stools at the kitchen island. I scooped two bowls of vanilla ice cream, but Edward couldn't be bothered to touch the dessert.

"Aren't you going to eat it?" I asked tersely.

Edward picked up his spoon and stared down at the ice cream. "And this is what it all comes down to," he said. "Just plain, old vanilla."

"Did someone drug your potato? What is _wrong_ with you?"

He was silent for a few moments, contemplating, I assumed, whether he was actually going to tell me what was going on. "It was recently brought to my attention that I am… _boring_."

"Who told you that?" I demanded, though I was pretty positive I already knew the answer.

He confirmed my suspicions. "Alice."

I had to suppress the urge to growl out loud. I'd never wanted to kill anyone before in my entire life, but I was ready to severely damage that bitch! And no, I wasn't going to mentally slap myself anymore for calling her that. She could mess with me as much as she wanted, but she couldn't mess with my man (or kind-of boyfriend)!

"Edward, don't—"

He interrupted me. "Don't tell me not to listen to her. Just because you don't like her doesn't mean it's not true."

"Seriously, Edward, I—"

"No," he said sternly. "Just look at tonight. I tried, Bella. I really tried to make this night special and exciting for you. I thought that maybe it might be nice for me to change it up for my girlfriend. Maybe she'd want a bit more spice in her life. So, I try to do something amazing for her and I spent all day cooking damn Cajun Cuisine, which by the way, I hate. And somehow I manage to screw it up, just like everything else, because there isn't a single bone in my body that likes change. _Vanilla_, Bella, that's what I am – just shitty, plain, and boring vanilla," he finished, finally scooping up a spoonful of ice cream and shoving it in his mouth.

I had never heard Edward speak so much in the five months that I'd known him and after all that, I could only think of one thing to say. "Did you just call me your girlfriend?"

Edward choked on his ice cream and glanced over at me with worried, wide eyes. "Are you breaking up with me?"

_What?_ "What?"

"Look, I'm so sorry. I promise to do better – I know I haven't been the best boyfriend, especially today. I promise that—"

I shook my head to clear my thoughts. This was all a little overwhelming. "But Edward, you aren't my boyfriend; you never asked me out."

"Of course I did. I asked you out on our first date."

"Yeah, you asked me to a _movie_. You never asked me to be your girlfriend," I clarified.

"I kissed you! I kiss you all the time!"

"But that could mean any number of things!"

"What do you mean that could mean any number of things? Why do you think I walk with you to all your classes? Why do you think I want to spend every moment of every day with you? Do you think I go around kissing random girls?"

"No, but I—"

"You never once considered me your boyfriend? Who do you think I am?" he asked, discouraged.

Edward looked upset, and, somehow, he looked lost. I thought about the question I'd been pondering for the last few months – who was Edward Cullen?

He was someone who loved _Lord of the Rings_ fervently and was persuasive enough to convince his father to dress up like Legolas. He was someone who was artistic enough to make T-shirts and was passionate enough to sell them. He was someone who cared deeply for me and was brave enough to go ask my father's permission to date me. Sure, some of those things might be considered dull by society's standards, but none of that mattered because it didn't define who he was. But I knew what did.

I jumped down from my stool and ran over to the refrigerator, grabbing the bottle of Hershey's chocolate syrup. I skipped back over to where Edward was sitting and promptly started pouring the chocolate syrup over his vanilla ice cream. "Five-four-three-two-one," I counted under my breath before putting the bottle aside and picking up his spoon.

"Edward Cullen, you aren't vanilla." I began to stir the chocolate syrup into the ice cream. "You don't even come close." I looked him dead in the eye. "You may be a little vanilla, but you also have chocolate in you, too. You're Swirl. Don't ever change that."

Amusement flickered in his eyes, and for the first time tonight, I felt like _my_ Edward was finally with me. "Swirl?" he asked, a small laugh in his voice.

"Yes, because deep down in your core, you are someone who puts chocolate in your milk."

"Swirl," Edward repeated. "I think I could live with that."

"Great! Because really, between the two of us, I don't think we can deal with another identity crisis," I said, remembering my own from a few months ago.

"Oh… I don't think we have to worry about that."

"What do you mean?"

"I got you something else for Valentine's Day – something that will remind you of who you are should you ever lose your identity," Edward said, reaching into his pant pocket and handing me a small stack of cards.

_Bella Swan  
Head of Research and Web Design  
MyT-Spot. com  
Home Phone: 360.555.6293  
bellaswan(at)MyT-spot. com_

"And my best _girl_friend… ever," he added, before leaning in and _really_ kissing me.

_**. . .**_

**A/N:** In my Livejournal, I have links to incredible articles and recommendations that people have written about Swirl and Daisy, including recs from The Perv Pack Smut Shack, Cullen Boys Anonymous, The Fictionators, and so many more. Thank you so much to everyone who pimps this story – it's just inconceivable that you love it so much. Thank you to so much to **xsecretxkeeperx** and **acciodanrad9**! And to every single person who reads, reviews, alerts, or favorites ItSaD!

_In response to the 'stained sheet' controversy_: I am going to let your imaginations run wild about how exactly Edward got his sheets dirty. However, I would like to make it clear to some people *coughNinapolitancough* that I will never, EVER write an Edward who still wets the bed at age 13.

Up Next… _Outtake: An Unplanned Excursion into the mind of Chief Swan_


	10. Outtake: An Unplanned Excursion

**A/N**: Excerpt from a review submitted by FunmbiE:

"…_And Edward is such a darling! Writing the love notes and leaving daisies...do you think we might have a chance to know what he wrote...even if Bella burned them?_"

I didn't plan to write an outtake so this is one gigantic Author Response to _every single_ review submitted last chapter. I cannot even begin to express to you how much each one of them means to me. You guys inspire me to write and I thank you so much for the support this fandom has given me.

**An Introduction to Swirl and Daisy: The Non-Romantic Romance**

Disclaimer: Any Twilight characters that may appear in this story belong to Stephenie Meyer. The remainder is my original work. No reproduction is allowed without my written consent.

_Outtake: An Unplanned Excursion into the Mind of Chief Swan_

_**. . .**_

Charlie Swan had always considered himself to be an exceptionally observant man. He had to be. He was Fork's Chief of Police. So he couldn't quite understand why his daughter thought he didn't know exactly what was going on between her and Edward Cullen.

Yes, he knew Edward had come by their house every day for the last week and a half to beg and plead for her forgiveness. How you ask?

**Exhibit A: Edward Cullen**

_Ever since they had their argument, Edward had been spending a ridiculous amount of time "volunteering" at the station. Charlie used the term "volunteering" lightly; mostly the boy sat at the front desk, moping and drowning in his overdramatic, teenage angst._

**Exhibit B: The Daisies**

_Every day when Charlie got home from work at seven o'clock there would be a new bouquet of daisies in the kitchen, dining room, or living room. One day, Bella had apparently run out of places to store the damn flowers, and he'd walked into the bathroom to find a vase of daisies sitting on top of the toilet seat._

_He hadn't realized he owned that many vases to begin with, later finding out that Renee had left a large stash of them in the attic. Figures she'd find some new way to remind him of her even ten years after their divorce._

**Exhibit C: The Love Notes**

_Bella was smart enough to burn those before Charlie got home every day (the smell of smoke and flaming paper gave that away). Edward wasn't quite as clever. He left the rough drafts of his love notes crumpled in the front desk's trashcan, not bothering to shred them. For as much as everyone raved about Edward being a genius, Charlie had expected him to be a bit brighter._

Sneaking a peek at Edward from inside his office, Charlie saw the same thing he had seen every day since the argument with Bella: Edward scribbling furiously away at a sheet of notebook paper.

Really, the kids had made it too easy for Charlie to deduce what was going on… not to mention the call he'd received from Esme, telling him exactly what went down between the two and pre-apologizing for whatever action Edward was planning to take to win Bella back. That had tipped Charlie off just a little.

Charlie checked the time as he watched Edward finish up his letter. It was now three o'clock. In mere minutes, Carlisle would pick Edward up from the station, take him to the flower shop down the street, and then drive to the Swan residence so his son could offer Bella his penance.

"Hey, Edward," Charlie called after Edward was finished stuffing the note into his backpack. "Why don't you come talk to me a minute before your dad shows up?"

The boy sauntered over to the office, depressed as ever. "What can I do for you, sir?"

"You start school tomorrow, don't you?"

"Yes, sir."

"You've been spending a lot of extra time at the station, and I thought you should take some time off to get adjusted to your school schedule."

More to the point, Edward looked like he could use some time to sleep. It was hard not to notice that his normally pristine appearance had been replaced with wrinkled clothing and bags under his eyes. Coincidentally, Bella had looked equally as shabby this past week.

"Thanks, sir, but I'd rather not," Edward said. "Being at the station helps keep my mind off… things."

Charlie could understand that. His hours at the station had doubled when Renee left him and took his only child with her. Of course, she had been his wife of five years and his high school sweetheart before that. Edward had taken Bella out on their first date three weeks ago.

"But, don't you have some sort of T-shirt business to keep you pre-occupied?" he pressed.

Edward's shoulders sagged, defeated. "My muse is gone."

_Huh_. Well, who was Charlie to deny Edward what small comfort he had?

"Is there anything else, sir?"

"Nope, that was all," Charlie answered, dismissing Edward from his office. He felt bad for the poor boy, but it was only a matter of time before his young heart got over it. Puppy love was fickle and never lasted.

Charlie waited until he heard the front door close before he got up from his office chair and strolled as casually as he could to the front desk. He grabbed the small trashcan from under the desk covertly, catching only the attention of Deputy Marks. Charlie gave him a stern nod to indicate that he should mind his own damn business and walked back to his office, trashcan tucked under his arm.

Sadly, this had become the highlight of Charlie's day over the past week and a half. Once he had gotten over the fact that Edward was writing these notes to his daughter, he found that the sentiments of a heartbroken young teenager were quite amusing. He reached into the trashcan and grabbed the first piece of crumpled paper.

_**.**_

_Dear Bella,_

_Before you, my life was like a moonless night. You shot across my sky like a meteor, lighting my vision with the purest of white lights. And now that you are gone, the vast, black hole of despair is swallowing me whole._

_**.**_

Apparently Edward had decided that this approach was too depressing to pursue further because it stopped there. Charlie chuckled, once again thinking about publishing this kid's letters as an anthology of teenage angst. He would be a millionaire.

He grabbed another one from the pile.

_**.**_

_Dear Isabella Marie Swan: The Beautiful,_

_Everything about you invites me in – your voice, your face, even your smell_._ Your scent calls to me like heroin to a drug addict._

_**.**_

A violent shudder ripped through Charlie's spine. He thanked God that Edward had decided to cut that particular line of pleading short. He had a line when it came to his daughter, and Edward had come dangerously close to crossing it.

The length of the next letter Charlie happened upon suggested that this one was going to be a winner. Edward had fully completed it, signing his name at the bottom and all. These ones were Charlie's favorites.

_**.**_

_My Darling Bella,_

_I hope that this letter finds you in good health and that you are coping much better with our separation than I am. _

_Bella, I must confess that my life now reflects an alternate universe of _Lord of the Rings_, where Sauron manages to obtain the ring of power and all of Middle Earth burns and perishes into the fires of Mordor. And every last Elven realm that was once pure and sacred is corrupted and massacred by darkness._

_And Aragorn and Arwen are never able to be together because Arwen leaves to go to the Undying Lands and Aragorn dies in battle._

_And there is no more reason for anything._

_My life is so empty without the radiance of your presence, the softness of your touch, or the song in your voice. I cannot live in a world where we do not exist. Please do not make me._

_Yours forever and always,_

_Edward Anthony Cullen_

_Home Phone: 360.555.9452__  
__Pager: 360.555.7385__  
__Fax: 360.555. 5832__  
__edwardcullen(at)myt-spot. com_

_**.**_

Charlie stared at the letter, processing exactly what Edward had revealed about his level of attachment to his daughter. It was strange – the only person Charlie knew that was this melodramatic was Bella. This meant one of two things to Charlie; either Edward was secretly a teenage girl or he was actually in _love_ with his daughter (as much as a thirteen year old could be).

Though the first option seemed possible (Edward's father _was_ a doctor), he decided that the second was more likely. What was he going to do about that?

Charlie considered his options:

1) He could kill him. As the Chief of Police, no one would ever suspect him.

2) He could fire him as a volunteer deputy and forbid Bella from ever speaking to him again.

3) He could help him.

Charlie mulled it over for a few minutes. The first two prospects were appealing; although, Charlie reluctantly admitted he had grown rather used to the Cullen boy being around. He certainly didn't _like_ Edward by any stretch of the imagination, but his presence wasn't entirely… disagreeable.

Also, Charlie knew what it was like to be heartbroken. Sure, Edward's age and inexperience with matters of the heart worked against him, but Charlie had been young when he first set his sights on Renee. He had forgotten what it was like to be thirteen and in love, but he couldn't forget the pain and heartbreak he felt every day since Renee left.

It was that fact that made him decide on a course of action. God help him, he was going to assist Edward in winning back his daughter.

And damn it if the thirteen year old LotR geek in Charlie Swan's mind didn't give Edward Cullen a high five.

_**. . .**_

**A/N**: Again, thank you so much to everyone who reads this story! You are all amazing. And thanks to **xsecretxkeeperx** and **acciodanrad9** for being awesome betas! The amazing **RoseArcadia** graciously offered to make me some Swirl and Daisy blinkies and they are incredible! Link is on my profile.

Next Up..._ Chapter Nine: A Farewell to Eighth Grade 2001-2002  
_


	11. A Farewell to Eighth Grade 2001 2002

**An Introduction to Swirl and Daisy: The Non-Romantic Romance**

Disclaimer: Any Twilight characters that may appear in this story belong to Stephenie Meyer. The remainder is my original work. No reproduction is allowed without my written consent.

_Chapter Nine: A Farewell to Eighth Grade 2001-2002_

_**. . .**_

_June 6, 2002_

_Dear Diary,_

_I can't believe tomorrow is the last day of school. Eighth grade has been the most amazing year of my life. Why? Because of Edward Cullen._

_Four months later, and I still can't believe that I get to be one of those girls that are dating the most perfect guy. Edward is my perfect guy. Today at school, while I was watching him eat his peanut butter and jelly sandwich, I decided to make up some rules for him._

_1. Never stop touching me for your touch is more important to me than breath._

_2. Never stop kissing me for your lips are ecstasy._

_3. Never stop hugging me for your embrace is the only thing holding me together._

_4. Never leave me for without you my heart would cease to exist._

_I love Edward. At this point, without him, I would not be Bella. His very presence makes me never want to move for fear of him fading away like a dream. When his hand touches my skin… if I died, it would be the most perfect death. Time stops._

_I've been trying to get him to say, "I love you." I think he wants to. I should probably wait patiently, but I'm so excited._

_I have to go to bed. Next time I write in you I will officially be a freshman in high school!_

_Bella_

_**. . .**_

_COMP520073: I had a dream about you last night._

A slight blush rose on Edward's cheeks.

_COMP520072: Oh yeah? What was it about?_

_COMP520073: Are you sure you really want to know? It's kind of funny._

_COMP520072: Of course. I want to know everything about you (especially any dreams you have about me)._

_COMP520073: Ok. Well, you were an animagus from Harry Potter, which means you could change back and forth between an animal and your human form._

"Wait, WHAT?" Edward abandoned his keyboard, staring open-mouthed at the computer screen as I typed my next sentence.

_COMP520073: You were this adorable tan, wiener dog that was so cute and perky, and you were small enough that I could carry you wherever we went. _

"Jesus, Bella. Are you serious?"

_COMP520072: Lol, it was completely hilarious, and I think my favorite dream about you to date._

"So that's what you dream about, Bella? Me becoming a wiener dog? How flattering." Edward pouted.

I bit my lip to keep from giggling. He was so darn cute when he was pretending to be upset about something. And, also, his pout kind of reminded me of what he looked like as a puppy. "As a matter of fact, I mostly dream about being with you forever." Maybe a little part of me was trying to get him to say those three magic words.

The smile reemerged on his lips. "There's something I want to tell you."

"Yes?" _This was it_.

"I…"

"Okay, everybody, first and foremost, I want you all to give yourselves a round of applause for putting out a magnificent yearbook!" _Darn Ms. Evans!_

I agitatedly clapped along with the other students as I turned my attention back to the teacher. Over the past few months I had perfected the art of differentiating between my teacher, Ms. Evans, and Edward's mom, Mrs. Cullen. It was a survival technique – right now I really needed to be annoyed with my teacher, and annoyed was something I would never allow myself be with Edward's mom. It was a fine line to walk, and fortunately, it would be over in a few hours.

"I've enjoyed having each and every one of you in this class. You all worked hard, and I'm very happy with the final product. I hope it's filled with happy memories for every single one of you. With that said, please feel free to take the rest of the class to get your yearbooks signed by your classmates. Thanks again for a wonderful year!"

One of the things I hated most about yearbooks was the giant popularity contest to see who could get the most signatures. Having had the yearbooks passed out the week before, I had already filled my quota for impersonal good-byes from the eighth grade.

_**. . .**_

_Bella,_

_I had soooo much fun being your friend!__  
__I hope we stay friends 4-ever!_

_HAGS!__  
__xoxoxoxoxo, Jessica S.__  
__P.S. Call me 555-4183 =)_

_**.**_

_Hey Jessica,__  
__It was nice having class with you.__  
__Have a great summer.__  
__Bella_

_**.**_

_Bella:_

_Hope you have an awesome summer.__  
__Hey, maybe you, me, and Angela could__  
__hang out at the mall some time?_

_Ben Cheney__  
__555-0396_

_**.**_

_Hey Ben,__  
__I hope you have a great summer,__  
__but I'm sure I'll be seeing you at some point. ;)__  
__Bella_

_**.**_

_Yo Bella!_

_Waz up chicka?__  
__You are a real coo person 2 hangout wit!__  
__Thanx for being a really grate friend and have a grate summa!_

_HAGS x1000!__  
__Eric__  
__555-4921_

_**.**_

_Hey Eric,__  
__Have a great summer.__  
__Bella_

_**.**_

_Hey Babe,_

_I have a song in my head that gose, "I falling even more in luv w/ u, equals the more that we've gone thru." U know that song? It's by lifehouse._

_I'm so =) we became friends! This year has been fun w/ u & me in gym and all. Well, watching the peeps in gym play b-ball & volleyball is soooo boring! I hate it how the boys are all like, "girls, hay girls, come here girls!" We're not dogs!_

_Oh! Mike just called me over, i g2g._

_I hope u have a kick A** summer! Call me 555-9378. We can hang out – just us girls!__  
__Luv ya lotz,__  
__Lauren_

_**.**_

_Hey Lauren,__  
__It was nice knowing you in gym.__  
__Have a nice summer.__  
__Bella_

_**.**_

_Whenever you miss me, just think of this-__  
__Remember the trees, remember the grass,__  
__remember me, the pain in the A$$!_

_See ya next year!__  
__Emmett_

_**.**_

_Hey Emmett,__  
__It was nice meeting you.__  
__Have a good summer.__  
__Bella_

_**.**_

_Bella,__  
__I don't really know you but you seem like a great girl! HAGS and good luck in Forks High!__  
__Katie Marshall_

_**.**_

_Hey Katie,__  
__Have a great summer.__  
__Bella_

_**.**_

_Bella,_

_You've been a terrific student!__  
__More importantly, you are a wonderful young lady.__  
__May all your dreams come true!_

_XO, Ms. Evans__  
__P.S. See you at dinner tonight. ;)_

_**.**_

_Hi. Bye. -Conner_

_**.**_

_Have a nice summer.__  
__Bella_

_**.**_

_Is-A-Bel-Ah!_

_Don't forget to oot your ooples &__  
__banoonoos and never eat yellow snow.__  
__Monkeys are yummy.__  
__Have an awesome possum summer._

_Tyler__  
__P.S. If you ever ditch Cullen, give me a holla 555-3275_

_**.**_

_Tyler,__  
__That will never happen.__  
__Have a nice summer.__  
__Bella_

_**.**_

_Dear Bella,_

_Thanks for being my friend this year!__  
__I can't believe we're almost in high school!__  
__See you this weekend for Miss Congeniality and popcorn!__  
__Angela_

_**.**_

_Angela,__  
__Ben thinks we should all hang out. What do you think? ;)__  
__Bella_

_**.**_

_Rosalie Hale_

_**.**_

_Hey Rosalie,__  
__Have a nice vacation.__  
__Bella_

_**.**_

_Hey Girly!_

_Bella, you are such a sweetie - never change!__  
__You have been such a great friend and inspiration!__  
__I hope you have a great summer and a great time at Forks High!_

_Hugs!__  
__Alice_

_**.**_

_Alice,_

_I saw your baby dedication in the yearbook.__  
__You were such a cute kid!__  
__What happened?_

_-Anonymous_

_P.S. Do you know what they say about karma? I think you have something in common with it (and it rhymes with witch)._

_**.**_

_Bella,_

_Do the Dew!__  
__(actually no because Mountain Dew sucks! Blah!)_

_Mike Newton_

_P.S. If things worked that way, everyone would still be wearing hot pants. YA DIG?__  
__Sarah Lewis- Forces of Nature_

_**.**_

_Mike,__  
__Have a nice summer.__  
__Bella_

_**.**_

_Dear Bella,_

_Thankz 4 letting me sign your processed tree!__  
__U R 1 of my best friends & I don't want to loose u over the summer! _

_Keep in touch 555-1635 or email me: ._

_HAGS and LUVS!__  
__Samantha_

**.**

"Who's Samantha?" Edward asked.

"I have no idea."

"Then why did you have her sign your yearbook?"

"Isn't that what you're supposed to do with a yearbook?" His mother was the yearbook teacher – shouldn't this be kind of obvious? But then again, he _was_ a boy.

"No. Yearbooks are supposed to be about memories," he said. "You have no memories with her, so why would you have her sign it?"

"Well, I guess now I have the memory of her signing my yearbook. That counts doesn't it?"

"Hardly."

"Whatever. It doesn't matter anyways. It's all just stupid." I pushed my yearbook (unsigned by only him) to his side of the desk. "Are you ready to get this over with?"

"This is serious, Bella. This is what we will have to look back and remember eighth grade. Not to mention we put a lot of hard work into making it." Apparently Edward didn't mess around when it came to yearbooks. It was oddly endearing. "Did you save me an entire page like I asked?"

"Yes, I did, but how you could possibly fill out an entire page is beyond me. Just say, 'Have a great summer', and sign your name."

"Don't be so ridiculous. That doesn't even make sense, as I'll be seeing you all summer. Here's my yearbook. You can sign it anywhere you'd like."

I grabbed the yearbook from him and flipped it open. There was nothing written in the front cover. I flipped it to the back and found that it, too, was blank. "Why has no one else signed your yearbook?"

"Why would I want anyone besides you to sign my yearbook? You are the most significant memory I have." It was moments like this I wondered if Edward was actually real. I mean, what kind of thirteen year old says stuff like that? _You are the most significant memory I have_. It was like poetry… except it didn't rhyme and was only one sentence. "Are you crying?"

"No."

"Why are you crying?" Edward asked gently, patting me on the back as if that would somehow cure me. Charlie did the same thing sometimes when he didn't know how to handle my emotions. Why did boys think petting a girl like she was a puppy would make the tears go away?

"It's nothing. I just got something in my eye." He didn't look convinced, still patting me on the back with a bewildered expression. "And that was… really sweet."

He smiled. "_Gell nîn-"_

I cut him off. "I thought we'd talked about the Elvish thing." Seriously, it was romantic for about the first three weeks, but it got old after nine months. I had no way to know what he was saying, and he normally refused to translate for me.

"Uh, sorry… habit. I meant that it was my pleasure, and it's also the truth."

He was _so_ adorable. "Let's do this thing," I said. I didn't understand what Edward's deal was with yearbooks, but whatever. He always did what he could to make me happy so I could try to do this one thing for him.

**.**

_June 7, 2002_

_My Arwen,_

_Simply put, this has been the best year of my life. Why? Because of you, Bella, and what you have come to mean to me. _

_The first time I laid eyes on you, I knew that you were something special. You carried a purple North Face backpack with two large zipped compartments, a front pouch, and a side mesh pocket where you stored your water bottle. You were wearing a grey T-shirt (medium, 70% cotton, 30% polyester, double-needle stitched sleeves and bottom hem) and Levi jeans._

_Besides those small details, though, I can't recall much of our initial interaction. Your voice was a song to me and your eyes like pools of melted chocolate speckled with honey, a combination that rendered my mind incoherent and my mouth immobile. I know one day we'll be telling people about the first time we met and how hopelessly awkward we were, but I truly think that discomfited meeting was perfection for us (even if you did ask if I was gay)._

_That was just the first of many experiences over the past nine months where your radiance has stunned me into stupidity. Bella, I hope that I tell you enough how absolutely breathtaking you are. Every time you walk into the room, I have to take a moment to collect myself lest I scare you with my staring and complete awe._

_Even after months of being official boyfriend and girlfriend, the simplest touch of your hand still sends a shock of electricity through my body, and your kiss spreads warmth inside me like a fire. _

_Everything about being your boyfriend is amazing – the walks, the picnics, the phone calls. I wish we could take this moment in time, freeze it and stay this way forever. I hate change, because as Bilbo tells Frodo in LotR: _

"It's a dangerous business, going out your door. You step onto the road, and if you don't keep your feet, there's no knowing where you might be swept off to."

_I suppose Frodo wouldn't have had any adventure in his life at all had he taken Bilbo's advice. _

_With you by my side, I know that I can tackle any challenge, whether it be to walk into the fires of Mount Doom or walk through the front doors of Forks High._

_Before you came into my life, I was alone. But now, Bella, you are my girlfriend, my business partner, and my best friend. You are all I will ever need and more than I could ever wish for, and I promise to make this the best summer of our lives._

_Amin mela lle,_

_Your Swirl_

_**.**_

_Edward,_

_You gave me your business card._ _You danced with me at the end of the night._ _You offered me a job and made me like LotR._ _You called me your best friend._

_You held my hand on our first date._

_You kissed me in your bedroom._

_You asked me to be your girlfriend._

_**You**__ are the most significant memory I have and the only one I will ever want._

_Bella_

_P.S. I _**_knew_**_ you weren't going to be able to resist writing Elvish in my yearbook. You owe me $5! _

_**. . .**_

**A/N**: That's the end of middle school! I'm sad to see it go but high school is going to (hopefully) be fun. Thank you so much to **xsecretxkeeperx** and **acciodanrad9** for being amazing betas! Also, a special shout out to my lil' sis, **b81172** (she knows why) and to **vickitori303** for helping me out when I didn't have my _Twilight_ book available.

Thank you to anyone who reads, reviews, alerts, or favorited this story, and especially to all of you who have been pimping this story like crazy!

Up Next... _Chapter Ten: The First Time She Said the D-word_


	12. The First Time She Said the D Word

**An Introduction to Swirl and Daisy: The Non-Romantic Romance**

Disclaimer: Any Twilight characters that may appear in this story belong to Stephenie Meyer. The remainder is my original work. No reproduction is allowed without my written consent.

_Chapter Ten: The First Time She Said the D-word_

_**. . .**_

"What's a _Donkey Kong_?"

"Hmm?" Edward asked distractedly,

"What is a _Donkey Kong_?" I repeated, annunciating each syllable slowly.

Edward looked up from the book he had been reading by the window. "_Donkey Kong _is a video game. Why do you ask?"

I had been hunched over the computer in his bedroom for about an hour, sorting through a batch of T-shirt designs submitted to MyT-Spot. com by various artists. "This guy sent in a design with a really disturbing image of a monkey on it. He says it's exactly what 'My T-spot' needs."

Edward jumped up from the window seat. "You see?" I said, pointing to the screen. "The tag line says 'It's hung like Donkey Kong.' What does that mean?"

"Ignore it. Delete it. Ban him from submitting anything again," he rattled off, without answering my actual question.

"But what does it mean?"

"It doesn't mean anything. It's stupid and it's not what we sell." Edward clearly didn't want me to know what was going on.

"But-"

"I'm hungry."

"Well then, go get something to eat," I snapped, irritated by his cop out.

"But I don't want to leave you." He twirled a strand of my hair around his finger, clearly trying to distract me. "Come with me?"

I huffed. "I'm trying to work, Edward. You should be working, too."

"But I can't work on an empty stomach." He leaned in to nuzzle my cheek with a sweet kiss. _Darn_, he was good.

"Fine, look in my bag. I think I have a bag of chips or something in there."

"Thank you!" Cheerfully content that he had distracted me from my line of questioning, Edward walked to where I had dropped my bag by the door and started digging for the treasured snack item. "Hey, can I have this piece of candy?"

"Sure, you can have whatever you want," I said, leaning further towards the computer screen. What exactly was that on the monkey? It took a second for it to sink in that Edward had asked me if he could eat a piece of candy from my bag, another second for me to realize that I didn't _have _a piece candy in my bag, and a third second to realize exactly what I _did_ have in my bag that he might mistake as a piece of candy.

"DAMN IT!" I cursed loudly, whipping around in the chair. "Edward, don't open that! It's…" But it was too late. Edward had already unwrapped it and was now staring at what he held in his hand in absolute horror. "…a tampon." I buried my face in my hands, drowning in mortification. _Was this actually happening? It was a dream, surely.  
_

Neither Edward or I spoke for at least a minute. I was floundering in humiliation, and he was still… feeling whatever a guy would feel when he unwraps his girlfriend's tampon thinking it's a piece of candy. Slowly, as if it were a nuclear bomb, he lowered it back into my bag and carefully placed the entire bag on the floor next to him. I didn't know what to say. How could I say anything? This was positively the most humiliating moment of my entire life.

Apparently, though, Edward wasn't quite as shy on the subject because he said, "It's all right, Bella. The, uh, menstrual cy-cycle is a natural part of any fertile female's body. It, uh, it deposits the ovum or, uh, the _egg-_"

There was a time in my life where nothing was worse than Charlie talking about sex. That time ended the second Edward started talking about my period. "_Please_ stop," I begged.

Edward shut his mouth, but walked towards me with his hands in the air like I was going attack him if he approached too quickly. He reached out his hand to touch my arm, but changed course midway and started patting my back in that weird way he always did when trying to comfort me. "You know, I'm sure my mother would be willing to talk to you about-"

I stood immediately, and walked over to the door, grabbing my bag on the way. I looked at the wall above Edward's head and fidgeted with my bag as I said, "Um, I'm going to take a few days off of work and, uh, when I return, we'll just... never speak of this again." Without waiting for Edward to respond, I fled his bedroom. First thing tomorrow I would hit up the Thriftway, buy a damn tampon case, and write "DO NOT OPEN" on it with a permanent marker.

_**. . .**_

**A/N**: Thank you to **xsecretxkeeperx** and **acciodanrad9** for being AMAZING betas! Also, thank you so much to everyone who reads, favorites, alerts, and reviews this story. I don't have a chance to answer them all but I appreciate each and every one of them!

I have a Twitter – link on my profile. I share funny things about this story, like my father's review for chapter 5, "I was shocked to find out my little girl knew what t=spot rhymed with. LOL." Isn't he just so sweet and naïve? I love him!

Up Next.. _Chapter Eleven: The First Time They Walked Into Forks High_


	13. TFT They Walked Into Forks High

**An Introduction to Swirl and Daisy: The Non-Romantic Romance**

Disclaimer: Any Twilight characters that may appear in this story belong to Stephenie Meyer. The remainder is my original work. No reproduction is allowed without my written consent.

_Chapter Eleven: The First Time They Walked Into Forks High_

_. . ._

"Why is there a leaf in my pasta?" I asked.

"Relax. It's a bay leaf."

"What's a bay leaf? It sounds Elvish."

Edward laughed. "This is why I adore you. A bay leaf gives the pasta more flavor."

"Right." I carefully maneuvered the leaf out with my spoon and flicked it over the porch railing. "Forgive me if I don't quite trust your judgment in regard to cooking after the Cajun food incident."

"One of these days that excuse is going to get old. I'm actually a very good cook."

"The oven you murdered disagrees," I said. It was the last day of summer vacation, and we were sitting on Edward's back porch, savoring what was left of our freedom. Our summer adventures, like the party Edward had hosted for the release of _The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring_ DVD, had been blissful. I use the term "party" loosely because it was mostly me and Edward kissing in his home theater while the movie played in the background. But there _were_ streamers involved. Our whole vacation had been like that with the kissing. Absolutely freaking _blissful_.

Tomorrow would be our first day of high school. I wasn't worried at all. Sure, there were a lot more students, but that only meant more people we could be friends with. I certainly wasn't thinking about the fact that half of those people were girls… probably gorgeous, beautiful, tall, skinny, older girls that would be all over Edward the second we walked through the doors.

"You should," Edward said.

"I should what?" I asked. I'd bet none of those girls would even bother to get to know the real Edward before they pounced on him – the gorgeous, sweet, humble, charming, amazing, perfect Edward that I knew. And I did _know_ him, just like he knew me. So why would he want one of _them_ over me? Besides the fact that they are older and more experienced and gorgeous-

"Trust me."

I snapped back to attention. "Trust you with who?"

"Cooking," Edward said. "What did you think we were talking about?"

"Um, nothing. Just thinking about tomorrow."

The smile slipped from his mouth. "Are you worried?"

I faked a laugh. "Worried? What's there to be worried about?" It wasn't _technically_ a lie if I didn't answer his question.

Edward's eyes fell to his plate and he started to pick at his food. "You know, new teachers, new subjects, new _students_…"

"Well, that just means there's more people for us to be friends with." Repeating the lie I had been telling myself didn't sound nearly as convincing when I said it him. Edward nodded and gave me a tight smile in response. What was he so nervous about? He needn't worry that _I_ might decide to run off with some upperclassman. Edward was it for me, and if he decided he didn't want me then I would become a nun and die a virgin.

We sat on his back porch for about an hour longer before it was time to leave. We didn't talk about anything in particular – just enjoyed being in each other's presence. That was one thing I had loved about this summer. Being with Edward was like eating a cup of chocolate pudding (the one with the peel-off lid); you don't have to talk while you're eating it, but when you're finished you always want more.

Were you even allowed to like pudding cups in high school?

_**. . .**_

When I arrived at Forks High the next morning, Edward was waiting at the front entrance. That in and of itself was incredibly sweet, but the gesture was made considerably more profound by the fact that it was raining.

Note: Edward being wet is _never_ a bad thing.

The prospect of Edward's company didn't make the police cruiser any less embarrassing. So I grabbed my lucky purple backpack from next to my feet and pulled the hood of my jacket over my hair, both to keep it dry and hide my face. I had just reached for the handle of the car door when Charlie put his arm out to stop me. "Is there something you wanted?" I asked.

Charlie cleared his throat. "I want you to know that… if you don't like the cafeteria food here we can always go grocery shopping and pack you lunches from home."

We had endured the entire car ride in silence; why was he speaking now, when I was likely to be spotted? "Look, we'll talk more about the lunches when I get home."

"Wait, Bella," Charlie said, stopping me from getting out of the car a second time.

"Dad, I have to go – Edward's getting wet." Again, that wasn't a _bad_ thing, just a good excuse for me to get out of the cruiser before most of the student population arrived.

"Give your old man a moment, all right?"

I groaned a little, but complied. "What's up?"

"I know you don't want to listen to your father getting all… _nostalgic_ over his little girl's first day of high school, but I wanted you to know that I'm really proud of you." His ears turned a little pink. That was exactly the kind of thing I loved my father to say but had to pretend I hated in order to keep up the façade that I was a normal, well-adjusted, yet slightly angsty teenage girl. "Good luck, Bells. Tell Edward to keep you out of trouble."

"Thanks, Dad. And know that I certainly won't tell Edward that," I said, getting out of the car. Would I ever understand my father's relationship with Edward? They'd only met on a few occasions, and yet some days it felt like Charlie knew Edward just as much as I did.

I ran to where Edward was standing, grabbed his hand, and pulled him into the building to give him a proper greeting. We had both gotten there early enough that there weren't many students milling around, so once we were inside and in a semi-private corner, I threw my arms around his neck and pulled him into a kiss.

And for some reason, he started _laughing_. "What is your problem?"

"A little impatient for me today, aren't you?" he said, still chuckling.

"_I'm_ impatient? So I suppose you were waiting out in the rain for Lauren Mallory to show up?"

He waggled his eyebrows evocatively, then pulled off his wet raincoat. I growled, but followed his example. Glancing around the entrance of Forks High, my stomach lurched at how big it was. It hadn't looked this large from the outside. "So, I guess this is our home away from home for the next four years," I said, with a tinge of panic.

"And how appropriate that the first thing you did as a freshman is attack another student," Edward said. My eyes rolled, but I loved it when Edward teased me. It was a side of him that not many people got to see – it was the side of him that _I_ owned.

A few students filtered in behind us, and I caught a girl eyeing Edward's backside. I narrowed my eyes and fought back a possessive sneer. Edward's hand tightened around mine and I looked over to find that he was wearing an expression similar to my own – only it was directed at some dude with a baseball cap. Even after standing out in the rain, Edward's hand was warm and soft. I probably would never wash my hand again if I didn't know I would be able to hold his whenever I wanted to.

"Well, we made it through the gates of Mordor," I said, sporting an assuring smile. "Now all we have to do is destroy the ring."

He nodded towards the boy in the baseball cap. "It'd probably help if we didn't have Gollum hanging around waiting to steal the ring and bite off my finger."

"Gollum bites off Frodo's finger?"

"How have you not gotten to that part yet? I lent you the books months ago." Oops. In a moment of absolute brilliance, I'd told Edward I didn't want to discuss my progress in the book series so he didn't accidentally ruin the ending for me. In actuality, I hadn't gotten past the first sixty pages.

"When would I find time to read them? We're always hanging out." And they were _really_ boring.

Edward let out a sarcastic laugh. "Well, I don't know, Bella. Somehow I've managed to read the series twice in the time I loaned you the books."

"But you've already read the books a million times! Why would you need to read them again?"

"Tolkien's writing is so full of depth, that there's always more to learn," Edward said. "In every page, you can find some little detail or hidden clue that you missed on a previous reading."_ That_ was one of the problems. It was so tedious and dry.

Instead of arguing this further, I tugged on Edward's hand. "Come on. We better get our schedules before the line gets too long."

_**. . .**_

"Musical Theater?" I screeched, staring down at my first semester schedule. How had those morons managed to screw it up? And why was Edward practically crippled with mirth? "Stop laughing! This isn't funny. It's utterly tragic."

"I can't help it," Edward said, without expending the effort to even try. "I have this hilarious image of you dressed up in a cowgirl costume, whipping out a pistol and dancing along to a stage production of _Annie Get Your Gun_."

"_Annie Get Your Gun_?"

"You know, Annie Oakley? Buffalo Bill? Anything you can do, I can do better? Why do you look like you want to shoot me with her pistol? It's a compliment! Annie Oakley was amazing. She was the best sharpshooter in the Wild West and could kick any man's butt in a duel." He had a gleam in his eye that I knew all too well.

First Elves and now _this_? Figures that Edward would be interested in cowgirls. Sometimes, I wondered if he wasn't actually an old man trapped in the body of a teenage boy. It would explain _a lot_ of things – the stash of Audrey Hepburn movies he hid under his bed, for one.

"Whatever. You can forget that image right now. I'm transferring out." I turned to walk back into the office, but, to my dismay, the line had grown exponentially while Edward revealed his cowgirl fixation. I would never get this fixed in time for classes! The anxiety I had felt upon first entering the school rose like bile in my throat.

"Okay, Bella, I think you're hyperventilating a little bit. You need to breathe."

Was it possible to asphyxiate on panic? "Tell me something I don't know."

"When JRR Tolkien was a child, he was bitten by a large baboon tarantula in South Africa."

"Huh?"

"You told me to tell you something you didn't know." He was struggling not to smile at his own joke, while I fought an outright laugh. This was why I loved him. Even when I tried to feel like crap, Edward always found a way to make me smile. "We'll fix your schedule later. For now, we don't want to be late for our first classes of high school."

It seemed only moments later, I was clutching Edward's hand outside my first period class. It was English, which was my favorite subject, but what if I had no one to sit next to? What if we got paired up for projects and no one wanted to be my partner? I suddenly regretted not making more friends in eighth grade. Edward leaned in to kiss my forehead, promising me he'd be back to walk me to my next class and that everything was going to be fine. Even if we didn't have any classes together, we still had lunch and we'd get my schedule fixed then... or so he assured. A small fissure tore in my heart as our hands unlatched.

I took a deep breath before stepping forward and turning the doorknob. Only about half the class was full, which meant there were plenty of spaces to sit that weren't next to other students. It was always easier to have someone come sit next to you, rather than possibly offend someone by sitting next to them. I chose a seat near the middle of the class, pulled out Edward's copy of _The_ _Fellowship of the Ring,_ and pretended to read it so I wouldn't look like a slacker.

The class filled with people I barely recognized, and by the time the teacher came in, the only seat that wasn't taken was in front of me. The teacher was introducing himself when the door opened up and the last person I ever wanted to see plopped herself in that very seat. "Now that the entire class is here," the teacher said, glaring in our direction, "I will tell you that the seats that you have chosen today will be your permanent seats for the rest of the semester."

Alice f-word Brandon's face practically lit up as she turned around. "Oh my God, B, we are going to have _so_ much fun this semester!"

So far, I loathed high school.

_**. . .**_

Alice turned out to be in four out of seven of my classes. Clearly I had done something to offend God. Alice in four classes, and Edward in zero? His wrath was surely upon me. Worse, my plan to switch out of stupid Musical Theater into seventh period Yearbook was on hold because the earliest I could get an appointment was three days from now.

And it was torture. This whole day had been torture. I _hated_ high school.

Every teacher had made us stand up, introduce ourselves to the class, and give some random fact about ourselves, as if that would magically help them remember our names. In classes where freshmen were mixed with upperclassmen, we got the spiel about how older students needed to set a good example for us. All the while, we endured glares from them, like it was our fault the teachers had decided we were too incompetent to behave appropriately. And gym… well, there were no words I could use without having to mentally slap my wrist to describe how much I hated gym. My saving grace was that Angela was in three of my classes, gym included.

This day needed to end, and I was either going to thank God that the only class I had left was Musical Theater or curse him for the day not being over yet. "Attention, class," the teacher called from the head of the choir room. "My name is Mrs. McCrae and I'm going to be your teacher for this semester. We're going to start off today with introductions. When I call on you, I'd like you to stand up and tell the class your name, followed by your favorite musical."

Typical. This was going to be especially excruciating because I couldn't use the generic "I go by Bella and I like to read" introduction I'd used in my other classes. Plus, I'd have to wait and pray that no one else said my favorite musical (_Grease_) before I did. I wasn't about to be a copy cat.

"Let's begin with Alice Brandon," Mrs. McCrae read from the top of her roll list.

Alice popped up from the middle of the popular girls' group, and fluttered her stupid eyelashes obnoxiously. "Hello everyone! My name is Alice Brandon and my favorite musical is _Grease _because John Travolta is such a babe."

Damn Alice f-word Brandon!

Renee's obsession with _Grease_ had led to the exile of other musicals in our home (aside from _Grease 2_, which would have been even more pathetic to say out loud to the class). I couldn't give Alice the satisfaction of thinking I was copying her, but it was the only musical I knew off the top of my head.

"Very good, Alice," Mrs. McCrae said. "Okay, next we have Jackie Cooper."

Jackie stood from the chair next to Alice. "Hi, I'm Jackie and my favorite musical is also _Grease_." Alice beamed even brighter and began _applauding_ Jackie for saying her favorite musical was the same as hers. Of course the rest of the class (aside from me) started clapping along with her. Did Jackie have no dignity? Who wanted to be applauded for being a sheep?

It was appalling, but that's how it continued. Whenever Mrs. McCrae would call a girl's name (the only boy in the class was Eric Yorkie), the girl would stand up and say her favorite musical was _Grease_ and Alice and her cronies would give that girl a round of applause. Even more disgusting was when an "unpopular" girl would stand up and say that _Grease_ was her favorite musical, just to get Alice's approval. At one point, a girl stood up and said, "I've actually never seen a musical before, so I choose _Grease_!" She got twice as much applause for that. It was so _wrong_. And, I swear, sun was shining out of Alice's ass (mental wrist slap) every time a new girl said the word _Grease_.

Meanwhile, I was sitting in the back of the room willing my brain to spit out the name of a musical, any musical. For the life of me, I couldn't remember the name of the one with the red, sparkly, high heeled shoes. After this, I was going to make Edward watch every classic musical he had hidden under his bed with me.

Wait, Edward! He was—

"Isabella Swan." Mrs. McCrae sounded bored, as if she'd witnessed this exact spectacle too many times.

I stood up, a little shakily – I really hated public speaking. "Um, I go by Bella."

She made a note to change my name. "And what's your favorite musical?"

"_Annie Get Your Gun_."

"Yeah right, Bella," Alice said. "I've never even heard of that musical."

Rage boiled inside me. Oh, how I _hated_, Alice f-word Brandon. In the heat of the moment, I figured it wouldn't matter if I made a bad impression on the teacher since I'd only be in her class two more days. "Really? That's too bad, because Annie Oakley could totally kick your a—"

"Actually, _Annie Get Your Gun_ is a musical that was adapted into a movie in the 1950's," Mrs. McCrae said, now sporting a smile. "I'm surprised you bring it up, Bella, because Betty Hutton, who played the lead role, was actually a distant cousin of mine. Very good!"

I sent a smug look in Alice's direction and secretly bowed to my own internal applause.

_**. . .**_

As usual, Edward was waiting outside when I exited. "I've missed you all day," he said.

I smiled. "Then let's be glad it's over."

"So how'd it go? Was it worth the near hyperventilation?"

I was about to regale him with all the morbid details, but was cut off by an exaggerated gasp from behind. I whipped my head in that direction to find Alice frozen in the middle of the hallway with her mouth hanging open, staring at some guy with blond hair and blue eyes. He was with a group of friends, laughing over a joke. I guess he was cute, but certainly nothing compared to how beautiful Edward was. Of course, by the way Alice was staring at him, you would think he was Orlando Bloom. Managing to close her mouth, she straightened her posture and walked confidently over to the guy, her mere presence garnering his attention.

"You've kept me waiting a long time," she said, as if she didn't have a doubt in the world that he had also been waiting for her.

He seemed to stare deeply into her eyes, and I almost gagged. They stood there for a few moments until finally his face comically fell in confusion. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but, um, waiting for what?" The boys standing behind him barely tried to hide their jokes and nudges. It was like a miracle, this beautiful scene unfolding before me.

Alice visibly huffed and her body seemed to deflate a little before she smirked and reestablished herself. "_You_. You've kept me waiting for _you_," she clarified, holding her hand out to him.

As if in slow motion, the boy looked her up and down, quirked an eyebrow over his charmingly amused eyes, and said in his sweet, southern accent, "Sorry, Frosh. You're cute, but I don't do freshmen."

It was moments like this that made me believe God actually loved me. He _gave_ me this moment so that I could turn back to Edward and honestly say, "I think I'm _really_ going to love high school."

_**. . .**_

**A/N**: Thank you so much to **xsecretxkeeperx** and **acciodanrad9** for being my amazing betas! Again, thank you so much to everyone who is reading this story! Thanks to everyone who reviewed last chapter and to those who shared their horrific tampon stories… I truly feel for your humiliation.

Up Next..._ Chapter Twelve: The First Time They Had "The Talk"_


	14. The First Time They Had The Talk

**An Introduction to Swirl and Daisy: The Non-Romantic Romance**

Disclaimer: Any Twilight characters that may appear in this story belong to Stephenie Meyer. The remainder is my original work. No reproduction is allowed without my written consent.

**This story is rated T – however, please be aware that this chapter is more T-rated than the other chapters. **

_Chapter Twelve: The First Time They Had "The Talk"_

_**. . .**_

_Dear Diary,_

_Jasper Whitlock is my hero._

_I want to start a fundraiser so I can collect enough money to build a statue in his likeness. I will have it placed in front of the school with the line, "Sorry Frosh - I don't do freshmen," inscribed across the bottom._

_And I will take pictures of it and tape them to Alice's locker._

_*laughs maniacally*_

_Okay… maybe not. But seriously, I love that guy. My life is so much better with him in it and I've never even met him, lol._

_The last two days of high school have actually been really fun (with the exception of Musical Theater, but I have an appointment to take care of that tomorrow)._

_For instance, I never thought I'd say this, but Alice is actually tolerable in English. She spends the entire class writing notes to Jasper and then coloring them with hearts and flowers. Of course, because I sit behind her, I get to read them._

Dear Jasper,

I want you now more than ever. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. Only pure joy can explain how I feel about you. Love is a strong word. An epic, elite, mind-boggling, over-powering, scary, intense word. So please understand I take caution uttering the next sentence. I love you, Jasper Whitlock.

Blah Blah Blah

XOXOXO,

Alice

_Maybe I'm exaggerating a little bit, but seriously? The girl obviously can't take a hint because Jasper is definitely not into her. What stupid teenager actually believes they are in love with someone after only knowing them for twenty-four hours?_

_I mean, Edward and I have known each other for almost a year and still haven't said that to each other. And no – it doesn't bother me that Edward hasn't said "I love you" yet. I bet he's just waiting for the right time and everything. He definitely loves me. At least, I think he definitely loves me._

_g2g,_

_Bella_

_P.S. When I see you again, I will officially be in Yearbook class!_

_**. . .**_

The stupid, fat woman with frizzy red hair behind the receptionist desk was the most obstinate, abhorrent subhuman I'd had the displeasure of meeting. "But you don't understand. I can't sing _at all_. I don't know how to dance, and just the thought of getting up on stage in front of people makes me want to throw up." I made a gagging sound to emphasize my point; she didn't buy it.

"Really, dear, being dramatic is not going to get you anywhere." Her name-plaque read Ms. Cope. If this meeting was indication, it should have been Ms. Nope.

"I didn't sign up for Musical Theater, I swear." The real joke of it was the bowl of candy on her desk; clearly a prop to appear friendly to unassuming freshmen.

"While I understand that you didn't sign up for Musical Theater, upperclassmen get first choice in their electives and Yearbook is already full."

"But, my boyfriend, who is also a freshman, is in Yearbook." I could be obstinate and abhorrent too. Ask Charlie.

She folded her hands snobbishly on her desk. "After all of the upperclassmen get their first picks, we go through the underclassmen alphabetically."

I was going to get out of Musical Theater or I was going to die. That was an exaggeration. I probably wouldn't die, but I might punch Ms. Nope in her pretentious, pig-like face. "Look, I'm not trying to be rude or cause problems, but there _must_ be something you can do."

She sighed heavily and typed something into her computer. "We have a few open spaces available in Woodshop during that period."

_Woodshop_? With my luck and lack of coordination, I would lose a finger within the first week. "No, definitely not. There has to be something else." My hands clapped together tightly, as if the mere idea of being in Woodshop left a gaping hole where my right-hand pinky should be.

"I'm sorry, Miss Swan, but that is your only option."

My jaw clenched. Ms. Nope and I were at war. A glaring war, that is. Maybe it was rude, but this was about survival and I wasn't messing around. Suddenly her eyes lightened and a small smile graced her lips. "There is one other option," she said happily.

"Thank you so much. I will take anything," I said, relieved and somewhat triumphant. "What is it?"

Her attention focused on the computer screen, and she typed away. "I'm replacing Musical Theater with another period of gym. It's a little unorthodox but it still counts as an elective."

I shot up from my seat. "Wait!"

_**. . .**_

"So, how does it feel to not be in Musical Theater?" Edward asked, once I'd walked out of the office.

I narrowed my eyes at him. Edward could totally be blamed for this. Cullen came before Swan, so he technically did, kind of, take my spot in Yearbook. After about a second, I decided I was being irrational. "I wish I knew."

"What do you mean?"

With fluttering eyes to keep angry tears at bay, I opened my mouth but promptly shut it when no sound came out. Edward immediately pulled me to him in a strong embrace; his techniques for dealing with my emotions had improved so much, the petting being the first to go. "Bella, it's all right. Tell me what's wrong and I promise to make it better."

I managed to cry only a little as I recounted the ordeal to Edward. This was why I loved him so much (besides the other obvious reasons and his good looks); he always listened to me no matter how mundane whatever I had to say was. When I was finished venting my failure, he stepped back and smiled at me. "I swear to you on my Evenstar, I am going to find a way to make this better."

"Edward, that's really sweet, but that woman is seriously evil. I mean, she tried to put me into another period of gym. She wanted to torture me."

His smile grew a little wider. "Be that as it may, it so happens that Mrs. Cope is acquainted with my mother. I'm sure if I go there and try to talk to her, we'll be able to figure something out."

I knew it was completely impossible to change the hag's mind, but I didn't want to ruin Edward's lunch by being so negative. When we arrived at our table, food in hand, Angela was already there talking with a girl I had never met before. I found it a little strange – no one ever sat at our table except for us – but Angela seemed enraptured in their conversation. I didn't know why it bothered me. It wasn't like I minded that Angela had other friends or anything. I was just really surprised. That was all (kind of).

"—this thing that guys do and apparently there's, like, lotions and tissues to clean up and stuff, and it's called masturb-"

Edward's tray of food fell to the tiled floor with a loud crash. He swooped down to pick everything up while I rushed over to grab napkins from the lunch line. What was that about? Edward only did things like drop trays of food or set ovens on fire when he was in great distress. I decided to ask him when we weren't surrounded by hundreds of staring peers. Once we were finished and had thrown everything away, Edward and I sat down at the table across from Angela and the girl.

"Bella, Edward, I'd like you to meet Cynthia. She's my freshman mentor," Angela said.

"Hello." Cynthia held out her hand.

"One second," Edward said, reaching into his backpack and pulling out sanitation wipes (because he's weird and carries stuff like that around with him). He handed one to me and wiped his hands off on his own, before shaking Cynthia's hand. "It's nice to meet you." A small wave of jealousy rolled through my stomach. First my best friend and then my boyfriend? Who did this chick think she was? A quick glance at Edward's adoring face aimed in my direction calmed my nerves immediately.

I really needed to work on my trust issues.

As usual, lunch passed too quickly, even with our new addition. Edward picked off my food for fifteen minutes, then left to pursue his impossible mission of getting my schedule changed. My suspicions about Ms. Nope being harder to crack than a _Lord of the Rings_ book were confirmed when, come seventh period, I still had to trudge my sorry ass (mental wrist slap) to Musical Theater.

The first thirty minutes were spent with Mrs. McCrae at the piano figuring out the vocal ranges of each student. That in and of itself was enough for a headache, but the popular girls made it worse by attempting to be sopranos, even if they weren't. This equated to a ridiculous amount of screeching. It was apparently "uncool" if you were an alto.

While Mrs. McCrae was busy with that, Alice and her screeching cronies were endeavoring to put together a list of songs they wanted played at prom. This made no sense because only upperclassmen got to go. Regardless, they discussed song after song. So far the list contained a bunch of talentless nobodies, like Nelly, Eminem, and JLo. Clearly none of them could recognize true talent. Not being allowed to join in the conversation (I wasn't part of their "group"), I sat in my seat near the back of the class and pretended I had something better to do than eavesdrop.

"Oh my God! Put Avril Lavigne on the list!" Alice demanded. "_Sk8er Boi_ has got to be one of the greatest songs of all time." There were murmurs of agreement from the rest of the group and I openly scoffed. Alice turned around in her seat. "Do you have a problem?"

I sat up straighter. "I just assumed you would put someone with actual talent on the list."

Alice's face tightened, her body poised as if ready for a fight. I was willing to give her one. "Avril Lavigne happens to be one of the greatest musicians of all time."

"Sure she is, if you consider a tie-wearing wannabe talented," I said.

"Fine. And who would the great Bella Swan like to hear at prom?"

_Britney Spears_. "Vanessa Carlton." I felt bad betraying Britney like that, but it just wasn't cool to like her music anymore. Normally I wouldn't have cared, but I wanted to put Alice in her place. When the girls agreed and wrote Vanessa's name on the list, I internally cheered.

"Whatever. It doesn't matter what you want to listen to at prom since you aren't going," she said.

"Neither are you," I reminded her, raising my eyebrows at the fact that she had missed something so obvious.

"That shows how much you know. There's an upperclassman who's going to ask me this year."

Oh, this was too good to be true. I smiled at her wickedly. "Sorry, _Frosh._ I didn't realize_."_ The only face I had ever seen turn as red as Alice's was my own. I wasn't sure whether to laugh at my victory or duck and cover. The girl was starting to scare me. And then, to my honest surprise, she turned back to her friends who had been quietly watching our little exchange.

That was new. Normally if she was done tormenting me she would roll her eyes or huff in annoyance before stalking off. I was almost positive that I had actually struck a nerve. And I was relishing in it. My Jasper-love (not the same kind of love I had for Edward) was at its peak. I didn't think it could get any better than this.

"Oh, how lovely for you to join us, Mr. Cullen!" _Huh?_

I looked up from my mirthful glare at the back of Alice's head to see Edward standing at the front of the class with Mrs. McCrae. She was saying something, I was sure of it, but all I could hear were my eardrums pounding. What was he doing here?

Edward looked up from the front of the class and gave me a brilliant smile. I was momentarily distracted because, damn was he _fine_, but my mind quickly resumed its mental list. Perhaps he had managed to convince Ms. Cope to transfer me into Yearbook and had come to collect me. But then why did he have his belongings? And why did Mrs. McCrae say he was joining us?

Certainly Edward wouldn't have transferred _into_ Musical Theater. My stomach dropped as I considered the possibilities. If Edward was in this class, and that increasingly seemed the scenario when he deposited his backpack and sat next to me, he was going to witness some of the most humiliating moments of my life.

Leaning in closely, he asked, "Are you okay?"

_No._ I could see everything unfolding in my head – me attempting a fan kick in Edward's arms, missing my cue and falling down with my dress up over my head, the entire class laughing, and Edward hanging his head in shame. "I'm fine," I said weakly. "So what happened? Did you tr-transfer into this class?"

Edward flashed me his smile again, though it seemed slightly unsure this time. "Well, yes. I told you I'd find a way to make this better and there really was no way to get you into Yearbook. So, I asked if I could come in here with you. This _is_ better, right?"

I smiled faintly. He really should have talked to me before he did something so detrimental to my sanity. How rude was it to give up something he truly loved to come and suffer in this class with me? I had to convince him to take his seat in Yearbook back before someone else did and he ended up resenting me for the rest of our lives.

_Edward's empty seat in Yearbook._ There was an empty seat in Yearbook. The thought fleetingly crossed my mind to run to Ms. Cope's office and change my schedule, but was immediately squashed by Alice's gallingly fake, "Edward! I'm so glad you're in this class now. We can certainly use another guy!" Right. The only other boy in the class was Eric Yorkie, and every girl in the vicinity was eyeing Edward as though he were some precious commodity. Yeah, no way was I leaving Edward in this class.

Being so involved in protecting my Edward from the wandering eyes of theater girls, I couldn't help but yelp when I felt his hand wrap around my wrist and yank me toward the hall. I caught a glimpse of Mrs. McCrae opening her mouth to say something and Alice's surprised eyes, but we were out the door before anyone could truly register what was going on. Even I had no idea what was going on. Edward had never handled me like this before – I kind of liked it.

He led me to a deserted hallway, let my wrist go, and began to pace furiously back and forth. Edward had never been this disconcerted before, at least not in front of me, and it was a little unnerving. "What's wrong?" I asked.

Edward stopped his pacing, his back turned to me. "I'm smothering you, aren't I?"

Guilt flooded my entire being. "No! No, of course you aren't smothering me!" I was such a selfish bitch (mental wrist slap). Here my perfect, amazing, hot boyfriend had sacrificed something he loved for me and all I did was make him feel like I was getting tired of him.

Edward still hadn't said anything or even turned around to face me so I walked to him and put my hand on his shoulder. He turned slowly, and I hated the sadness and hurt I saw in his features.

"I'm so sorry," I said, tucking my face into his chest. He put his arms around me and held me to him. "I just didn't want you to be humiliated by how horrible I am. You have no idea how much I suck at singing and dancing, and it's going to be so embarrassing having you watch me make a fool of myself," I confessed. "And you're going to laugh at me."

"Oh, Bella," Edward said, "I _already_ laugh at you."

I yanked my head from his chest. "_What_?" I asked.

"Oh, yes," Edward said, no longer sad but amused. "In case you haven't noticed, you're a klutz."

"You _laugh_ at that?"

He nodded. "I normally wait until your back is turned or you're out of earshot, but yes, I find it hilarious."

The tips of my ears felt hot as I spun back towards the classroom. Edward quickly caught up and grabbed my hand, stopping me in front of the door. "If it helps, I also find it incredibly endearing," he whispered before kissing me. There was no way I could stay mad at him after that.

Mrs. McCrae shot us an annoyed look when we entered the classroom and called me over to the piano. Edward gave my hand one last squeeze and let go. We walked in opposite directions – me to my inevitable doom and he to his viewing pleasure.

Standing at the front of the class behind the piano, I could see almost every girl attempting to gain Edward's attention. I didn't like the way Eric Yorkie was looking at him either. All this would have bothered me, except the only person that Edward was looking at was me, his eyes dancing with humor as I began to sing.

_**. . .**_

Bella Swan

September 13, 2002

**English I**

Quiz #1 – Figurative Speech

Please give both the definition and an example of the terms listed below.

**Metaphor: **

Definition**: **_comparing two things that are not alike to suggest something they might have in common_

Example_: My birthday is a horror movie with too many sequels._

**Simile:**

Definition: _comparing two things that are not alike using "like" or "as"_

Example: _My locker is decorated like a combination of my mother's bridal shower and my grandmother's funeral._

**Personification:**

Definition: _when an inanimate object is described as having human-like traits_

Example: A_ daisy threw-up on my locker._

**Hyperbole:**

Definition: _an exaggeration_

Example: _I want to kill my boyfriend for decorating my locker with daisy-themed wrapping paper and alerting the whole school to the fact that it is my birthday. _

_(Note: The exaggeration is that I want to kill my boyfriend. The daisy-themed wrapping paper part is true)._

**Oxymoron:**

Definition: a_ phrase that seemingly contradicts itself_

Example: _My boyfriend is obnoxiously sweet. My locker was horrifyingly beautiful. I am hopelessly in love._

**Onomatopoeia:**

Definition: a_ word that looks like it sounds_

Example: "_Ouch!" is what my boyfriend will say when I punish him at lunch._

_**. . .**_

My iron fist was at the ready. As soon as Edward arrived for lunch, I would give him a black eye or a bloody nose for the stunt he pulled this morning. Oh, who was I kidding? I could never mess up that perfect face. I'd probably punch him on the shoulder and think it was cute when he pretended to be hurt.

Only, twenty minutes into lunch Edward still hadn't shown.

"Calm down. I'm sure he's fine. He probably got held up in class or something," Angela said.

She obviously didn't comprehend the seriousness of the situation. "You don't understand – it's my _birthday_."

"You didn't want us to do anything for your birthday. Maybe Edward is respecting your wishes."

"Are you serious? This is Edward we are talking about. If he respected my wishes I wouldn't have three-dozen daisies and a hand-painted sign that says, 'Happy Birthday, Bella Swan, born 2:57 AM, September 13, 1988,' currently stuffed in my locker."

"You do have a point." She stopped trying to comfort me after that. Something was wrong; I could feel it in my bones.

An Edward-free hallway awaited after English class, which was a rare occurrence indeed. But I didn't go into full panic mode until about ten minutes ago. No way would Edward miss lunch on my birthday. And there was something else, this sort of weird energy in the cafeteria. People who didn't normally sit together were clamoring into odd groupings and talking eagerly about something big. More than a few times people shot glances my way. At first, I thought it was because of the locker debacle, but now I was certain it was something more.

I was mentioning this to Angela, when a lunch tray dropped down on our table. Jessica Stanley plopped down in an empty seat. A quick glance at Angela showed that she was as shocked as I was. "Hi, Jessica," she said. "Is there something we can do for you?"

"I thought Bella would like to know that Mike is doing fine."

"Um, okay. That's always good to hear," Angela said, perplexed.

"Yep." Jessica shoved a forkful of salad into her mouth, and didn't make any effort to speak again for at least a minute. My muscles jumped when she suddenly looked up at me with a sour expression. "Apparently an ambulance had to be called."

I had absolutely no idea what was going on, but I was almost positive she was accusing me of something. "Oh, really?"

"Yeah," she said in a critical tone. "You know, you're lucky. _You_ don't have to sit here wondering whether your boyfriend is going to be all right or—"

"What does Edward have to do with this?" My panic inflated. She had mentioned an ambulance earlier, and Edward was missing. My imagination went wild—Edward in a car accident, Edward lying on the floor dead, Edward in the hospital clutching my hand as he took his final breath…

Jessica gaped for a moment, recovering with a priggish look. "Wait, you're telling me you have no idea what happened?" She sounded overjoyed at the idea.

"Cut the shit, and tell me what the hell is going on." Screw being subtle; now was not the time to mess with me.

The holier-than-thou look on Jessica's face transformed to indignation. "You know what? I don't think I will." She snatched up her tray and walked away.

Before I could speak two words to Angela, Cynthia dropped into Jessica's seat and grabbed my hand. "Oh, Bella, you must be so worried. I would be freaking out if I were you."

"I _am_ freaking out. Tell me what the hell is going on!" I shouted. And then added, "please" at Cynthia's shocked face.

She seemed reluctant. "Don't you know that Edward got suspended from school for getting in a fight with Mike Newton?"

It was worse than I could have imagined. "When you say fight, do you mean like, you know, like a fist fight?"

Cynthia nodded while Angela put her arm around me. "I'm sure he's all right," she said, ever the best friend.

"Yeah, I'm sure he's fine," Cynthia said. "From what I hear, Mike got the worst of it."

"What happened?" I asked.

Cynthia sighed a little. My eyes immediately narrowed – it wasn't a sympathetic sigh, so much as it was a _wistful_ sigh. The kind of sigh a girl does when she's looking at a really hot guy. My dislike of Cynthia intensified. "It's actually kind of romantic," she began. She definitely wasn't off to a good start, and I think I may have snarled because she added, "Because it was over you, Bella."

I perked up at that. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I don't have all the details, but they were in the locker room before gym and Mike said some stuff about you."

"What kind of stuff?"

She shrugged. "Whatever it was, Edward didn't like it because he attacked Mike and apparently it took ten guys to get Edward off him. And then I guess Mike had to be taken to the hospital and Edward got suspended."

The picture Cynthia painted was entrancing. Edward took on Mike plus ten other guys for me? How acutely Shane West of him. "I have to go," I said, grabbing my backpack and stuffing my untouched lunch into it.

Angela grabbed my arm. "Wait, where are you going? It's the middle of the school day. You can't leave."

"I have to get out of here." I zipped my bag and turned to her. "Look, Edward got hurt _defending_ me. I can't sit here without knowing if he's all right."

"But you can't ditch school—"

"Angela," I said aggressively, "he is the love of my life. I have to know if he's okay. I'll call Charlie and tell him I'm sick or something, but I'm not staying here."

She hesitated for only a second. "Just be careful."

I ran from the lunchroom to the front office. It didn't matter if my father would come get me; I would walk to Edward's house if circumstance forced me to. The only thing that was important right now was getting to him. Up until ten minutes ago, Jasper Whitlock had been my idol. But if what Cynthia said was true, my boyfriend had defended my honor. I now realized what it meant to be a true hero, and mine was Edward Cullen.

_**. . .**_

"Dad, this is an emergency. Will you please turn on the sirens?"

"No, this is not an emergency. I keep telling you that Edward is fine."

My expression became somber as possible. "Please, Daddy?"

It took all of a few seconds for him to reach over and press the button that turned on the sirens, and I learned something very interesting about my father; he was too clever to fall for the old "I'm sick" excuse, but a strategically placed "Please, Daddy, it's my birthday" and he was a goner. Exactly ten minutes after I had called him from the office, he was pulling up in his police cruiser to drive me to Edward's house.

I was bracing myself for the worst, but nothing (not even permanent disfigurement) would make me not want to be with Edward.

"Will you stop doing that?" Charlie asked.

"Stop doing what?"

"Stop hyperventilating. I told you, Edward is fine."

"How would you know? They had to call an ambulance, Dad. An _ambulance_. This is serious."

"No, they didn't."

"Yes, they did," I insisted. "And how would you know? It's not like you were there."

"Actually, I was," Charlie said.

"Oh, my God! They called the police? Did you arrest my boyfriend?"

"Calm down and stop being so dramatic. I didn't arrest Edward. I was actually there acting in a, um, _different_ capacity." Charlie seemed to be choosing his words very carefully.

"What does that mean?"

"Look, it doesn't matter and it's none of your business."

"Anything having to do with Edward is my business."

"Then you'll have to talk about that with Edward," he said, pulling up in front of the Cullens' house. I hopped out of the cruiser, annoyed with his discretion, and slammed the door for good measure. He was chuckling as he pulled out of the driveway.

Everyone kept telling me that Edward was fine, but what did that mean? Their standard of fine and my standard of fine were two different things. The thirty-four seconds I counted between the time I rang the bell and Edward opened the door were probably the longest of my life, and when it finally did open, I gasped.

Edward was fine.

As in, Edward was _fine_.

As in, I was going to be beating the girls off of him with a stick because he looked so devastatingly handsome with his darkened eye, a cut above his left eyebrow, and a bruise on his cheek. He looked so rugged and manly.

Both of us stood unmoving in the doorway. I was staring at him (covertly checking him out) and he was staring at me, too, a million emotions portrayed in the depth of his green eyes. "What are you thinking?"

There were so many ways I could answer that question, but none of them seemed appropriate. Opening my mouth, I prayed for the best. "I kind of want to lick you." I blushed heavily and cursed my lack of mouth filter.

Edward cracked a small smile and took a step toward me. "So, you aren't completely disgusted?"

Oh, I _was_ disgusted… with myself. "No, of course not," I said, reaching out for his hand. "Why would I be disgusted?"

He watched me run my thumb over his bruised knuckles. "I don't want to be a monster."

I snorted. "What does that even mean?" Hopefully that wasn't an offensive question.

"I don't know. I got mad today. _Really_ mad. I've never been in a fight before, and I managed to mess up Mike pretty badly. It was like it wasn't me inside my body. That doesn't make sense…" he trailed off.

"Yes, it does," I said, stepping inside his house. Edward followed me to the large sofa in the living room. I curled up beside him, wanting to be as close to him (and his action-star hotness) as possible. "What happened exactly?"

"I'm sure you heard the gist of it at school," he said, but he didn't seem too happy with that idea.

"I want to hear it from you."

"It was nothing really. We were in the locker room, Mike said some stuff I didn't like, I hit him, he hit me, we fought, and Emmett and Tyler pulled me off him."

Oh. Not ten people then. I bet there wasn't even an ambulance. "What did Mike say?"

"Nothing of importance."

"But it was about me." I was annoyed he was holding back the gory details.

Edward paused, before saying, "Yes, it was."

"That wasn't a question. I already knew it was about me, but what did he say?"

"I have something for you." Edward stood and walked out of the room, returning a moment later with a large, wrapped box.

"You can't distract me with presents!"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Edward said, placing the box in front of the couch.

"I'm not opening that," I said.

He didn't give up either, of course. "Yes, you are."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are."

"No, I'm not."

"Why are you being so difficult?" he pouted.

"Why won't you tell me what he said?"

"Because it was rude and horrible and I really don't want to talk about it," Edward said. "Please, Bella, it was disgusting enough that it made me hit him. Please, don't make me say it out loud."

He so rarely asked me for anything, that I muttered, "Fine," and turned to the package. It was wrapped in the same horrible daisy-covered wrapping paper as my locker. I briefly considered bringing that up again, but decided Edward had taken enough of a beating for one day. I ripped the wrapping paper and opened the box to find some kind of dress inside. It was a light shade of blue and almost robe-like in its design. It looked a little medieval and vaguely familiar.

"It's a replica of one of Arwen's dresses," Edward said. "I thought we could go as a matching set to the midnight showing of _The Two Towers_ this year. I'll be your Aragorn, if you'll be my Arwen."

"Yes, absolutely," I said, now very excited for December. "I love it. Thank you so much."

"I promise to always defend you, like Aragorn." There was so much honesty and devotion in his voice, a chill went down my spine. "What do you want to do now?"

My answer was immediate. "Let's go watch a movie." That was code for, "Let's go make-out."

The movie room was probably my favorite in the entire house, aside from Edward's bedroom. It had a big screen TV and several comfortable couches that were conducive to a comfortable make-out session. I picked my favorite couch, while Edward put a movie in and turned out the lights.

When Edward sat next to me, I became hyper-aware of the sexual tension crackling between us. Crossing my arms over my chest and balling my hands into fists, so as not to be overwhelmed by my sudden desire to ravage him, I glanced over at Edward to find his posture was identical to mine. A pang of longing shot through me as I marveled at his perfection.

He turned to say something to me and desire ripped through my chest when our eyes connected. We stared at each other before it became too much, and I looked back to the television screen. It was an unspoken rule that we at least pretended to watch the first half of the movie before we began kissing. It was more socially acceptable that way (and made us feel less guilty about making out while his parents were in the other room).

Of their own accord, my eyes flickered to his face. His desire-filled gaze was still upon me. Whether because of the yearning I saw there or the fact that he looked like he'd saved the day in some high-impact movie, I decided our rule was bullshit. I kissed him with ferocity and passion, and Edward matched my kiss with a fervor to rival the gods.

It wasn't long before I was lying down on the couch with Edward hovering over me, one arm at my waist and the other supporting my neck. We had never made-out in this position before and there was a slight discomfort on my leg – something from Edward's pocket kept poking me. I ignored it at first, not wanting to ruin the mood by pointing it out to Edward, but after a few minutes the poking grew more insistent and therefore more irritating.

I decided the best course of action would be to simply move the offending object without Edward noticing. I maneuvered my hand down his chest and at first he seemed to enjoy it, but he stiffened when I reached his waist and grabbed my wrist.

My eyes shot open to his surprised face. "Bella Swan, what do you think you are doing?" he asked in a hoarse voice.

"Uh, I was just going to…" my eyes shot down to his waist, hoping that he would catch the meaning without having to finish my sentence.

He launched himself to the other side of the couch, and ran his fingers through his hair and over his face. I sat up slowly, not wanting to disturb him too much and not knowing what I had done to cause such a reaction. Edward clearly was not happy. "What – what are your expectations of me?" he asked.

"Um, I guess I expect you to always be honest with me and tell me if something's bothering you."

Edward shook his head. "No, that's not what I meant. What are your expectations of me physically," he clarified.

I was definitely confused. This really didn't seem like the time or the place to be talking about this. "Well, I do kind-of expect you to stay in shape. I like your hair the way it is though."

"Bella, I mean," Edward hesitated and took a deep breath before whispering, "_sexually_."

Every bit of advice Renee had ever given me on this subject started flipping through my mind like a recipe guide. _Boys think about sex differently than girls. It's about survival of the species. It's hardwired into them so that we won't die off_. I shook my head, trying to rid myself of her advice. Edward was different than other boys. Certainly, he didn't think about sex like that. Or, at least, that's what I thought.

"Uh, what do _you_ expect, ya know, _sexually_?" I whispered the last word like a curse. It felt foreign on my lips. Sex wasn't something I ever thought of, really. Even with dating Edward it seemed so far off in the future.

I held my breath (metaphorically) for Edward's response. I wasn't ready, whether he thought we were or not, and a discrepancy in our opinions could have serious consequences for our relationship. If Edward wanted to, would I do it for him? Ms. Evan's words hit me then like a ton of bricks. Never change myself for someone else, she'd said in the bathroom. No, I decided, I would not have sex with Edward. Hopefully he would be okay with that.

Edward was watching me closely, gauging my reaction. "I think we should wait."

"Me, too. Definitely think we should wait," I said, beyond relieved.

"Good. And, uh, I think we should wait on _everything_."

"I concur," I agreed happily, thrilled that this matter had been resolved so quickly.

"And when I say everything, I mean _everything_ everything."

"Uh, okay?" It came out sounding like a question, but I was annoyed and confused by the fact that he felt the need to reiterate a point that I already understood and agreed to.

"I mean, it's not that I don't appreciate your offer to do… _that_," he said with a quick glance down at his lap. "It's that, I think it'd be best if we waited."

My eyebrows quirked questioningly at him, confounded about what he was talking about. Then, a light bulb went off. "No, no, no," I corrected. "I wasn't going to do _that_. Something was poking me and I was going to…" I trailed off as light bulb number two lit up.

Oh. _Oh_.

Even with the lights dimmed, I could see Edward's face redden in the light from the TV. "I'm sorry," he said.

"Don't be! I mean, I'm the idiot." Renee had taught me the technical aspects of what happened when boys got… excited, but I had been young and it seemed so gross at the time that I had made every effort to repress that particular conversation. Now I felt stupid for having brushed it off, especially after dating Edward for almost a year. These things were important. Maybe I should place another call to Renee...

"So, uh, how long do you think we should wait?" I asked, hoping to change the subject off of his, er, _problem_.

"Well, I was thinking we should wait until marriage. My parents waited, and I've recently received some advice from another reliable source to wait until then."

My heart soared at the words. Well, mostly at one word – _marriage_. Edward was thinking about marriage! He was thinking about marrying me! He must love me then, if he was thinking about something so far in the future. "Marriage sounds good to me. I mean, waiting until then sounds good," I said.

This sex thing was so easy. I was dating Edward, the hottest, most perfect boy on the planet and he wanted to wait until marriage. How did I get so lucky? I had a good five to ten years before I needed to worry about doing it. I wouldn't even have to think about it until then.

It was going to be a piece of cake.

_**. . .**_

**A/N**: Thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed and read this story in the last few weeks. And thank you so much to xsecretxkeeperx for holding my hand throughout the last week and a half of writing this chapter. It was really tough for me and she was a beta-extraordinaire. And, of course, to acciodanrad9 for being so quick and efficient and my RL BFF!

Up Next... _Outtake: An Uncomfortable Conversation and the Assault of Mike Newton_


	15. Outtake: An Uncomfortable Conversation

**An Introduction to Swirl and Daisy: The Non-Romantic Romance**

Disclaimer: Any Twilight characters that may appear in this story belong to Stephenie Meyer. The remainder is my original work. No reproduction is allowed without my written consent.

**This chapter contains MATURE language. Please be aware of that before you continue reading.**

_Outtake: An Uncomfortable Conversation and the Assault of Mike Newton_

_**. .**_

The average American teenage male thinks about sex once every seven seconds. The average American teenage male did not have Bella Swan as his girlfriend. I did. Dating the most enticing creature on the planet was not always easy. Logically, it provoked the number of times I thought about sex to be exponentially greater than the average American teenage male, which led to even the simplest tasks being complicated.

I was sitting at the front desk of the police station attempting to file paperwork on recent traffic violations, but my mind kept wandering to Bella in the blue shirt she wore today. Damn, that blue shirt was going to be the death of me. It was a tighter fit than usual and the effect of the color against her skin made her seem ethereal, almost otherworldly. The neckline plunged enough for me to get a peek of her—

"Edward, will you join me in the office?" The Chief could smell when I was thinking inappropriate thoughts about his daughter.

A year ago, I'd been discouraged that Chief Swan only seemed to tolerate me for the sake of extra help around the office. But as my feelings toward Bella had grown deeper and my thoughts toward her more perverted, I not only understood Chief Swan's hostility, but judged him for not being hostile enough. I deserved to be shot for the mental images my brain conjured: Bella in a hot tub; Bella dressed as Arwen; Bella wielding a sword… naked.

_Perhaps today's my execution_, I thought upon entering Chief Swan's office. He gave the appearance of lounging casually behind his desk, but, in actuality, he was trying to intimidate me with his stare. It never failed to work. If everything went as planned, this man would one day be my father-in-law. On top of that, he was in charge of the police force. If he killed me, no one would suspect him. That was a little scary. "Hello, sir. What can I do for you today?"

"Why don't you take a seat?" No good conversation started with that phrase, but I scrambled into a chair anyway. "I've been thinking about the time you spend volunteering at the station. It's been about a year now, hasn't it?"

I nodded but remained silent. He was going to fire me and forbid me from seeing his daughter. He probably saw the picture I drew of Bella in the cowgirl costume. I knew I should have burned it.

"Well, you've been doing good work. I, uh, got you something to make it more official." He nodded to a brown package on his desk.

Had he just complimented me? That was a first. A twig of hope sprung free in my chest. I dubiously picked up the package, and, amidst opening it, that twig grew into a full-on evergreen shrub. Inside was an official police uniform – navy blue, with sewn-in military creases and pleated patch pockets. The feel of it suggested one-hundred percent polyester, and I'd bet it had adjustable cuffs and permanent collar stays. My hard work had paid off, authenticated by this tangible symbol of Chief Swan's acceptance.

I should have rejoiced, but all I felt was overwhelming guilt. "Chief, I can't accept this."

His eyebrows shot up. "And why is that?"

"I don't deserve such a gift or your trust. I deceived you and have been a fraud this entire time. I couldn't live with myself if I knew you had given this to me under false pretenses." I was devastated to have to tell him all of this.

"And what false pretense is that?"

Bella would no doubt hate me once her father told her what I'd done. "I didn't volunteer because I wanted to help out at the police station. I took this job because I wanted you to accept me as Bella's boyfriend."

There were a few moments of silence before I had enough courage to look up at Chief Swan. His mustache was twitching, his body was shaking a little, and his face was turning red from trying to hold back his anger. He started coughing into the crook of his arm, only managing to choke out a quick, "Excuse me," before resuming his coughing fit. Now I was causing my girlfriend's father health problems; I was surely doomed. He cleared his throat gruffly. "Yes, Edward, I already knew that."

Now _that_ was a bombshell. "But, sir, if you knew then why didn't you fire me months ago?"

"I didn't exactly keep you on as a volunteer because of your resume and superb filing skills. I wanted to keep my eye on you. I was a young man once." It was demoralizing to hear that, but I pushed away any hurt feelings, knowing he loved Bella almost as much as I did. "Speaking of which," he continued, "there was something else I wanted to talk to you about."

"Anything, sir."

He grunted in acknowledgment but didn't speak immediately. He sat back contemplatively, and brushed his mustache between his thumb and forefinger. "How do you feel about fishing?"

"I feel fine about it, sir."

"I was thinking about going on a fishing trip this weekend. Would you be interested in joining me?"

My evergreen shrub burst into a Christmas Tree. "Yes, sir, I would very much like that."

"Do you know a lot about fishing?" he asked.

I shook my head no. Again, he waited to react and continued to introspectively stroke the hairs on his upper lip. It put me on edge. I was playing right into his interrogative-capable hands.

He sat up in his chair, and folded his hands in front of him. "I'm going to level with you, son. When you're young, it may seem like a good idea to, uh, catch a fish," he said. "And once you catch that fish, you may think it's a good idea to prepare and cook that fish right away."

"Is that not a good thing?" Why would you wait to eat your fish? Wasn't that the point?

"At first it may seem like a very good idea. As a matter of fact, it may feel like the best idea in the world, but when you realize the fish you've caught isn't a common trout…"

"So, we're not fishing trout?" I asked when he trailed off.

"No. See, I know you, Edward, and I think you want a tiger muskie. A tiger muskie is one of the most sought after and rarest of fish. Do you want a tiger muskie?" he asked.

"Uh, sure." Were tiger muskies indigenous to Washington? They sounded fairly exotic. He couldn't possibly expect me to catch one, could he?

"Good." He sounded relieved by my answer, apparently under the impression that we were on the same page. I was too embarrassed to correct him. "Here's the thing about a muskie. You have to wait for it. You have to take your time and be incredibly patient. Do you understand?"

I decided to nod. Never had my wish to read people's minds been greater. Chief Swan was talking about fish... but was he?

"Tiger muskies can be tricky to catch. With all the time and effort you put into getting them to you, you don't want to rush things. You want to wait for a special occasion before you take that step."

"But how do I know when the right time is to cook it? I mean, I've never gone fishing before. I don't know any of this."

Chief Swan considered his answer. "That's a good question. It's generally a good idea to wait until marriage."

He wanted me to wait _years_ before serving my fish at our wedding? "Well, Chief Swan, you've given me a lot to think about." That was an understatement. I decided to quit while I was only infinitesimally behind. "Thank you for the, uh, _fishing_ advice. I look forward to our trip this weekend." I stood up to shake his hand.

"Any time. And don't forget to wash that uniform and have it pressed before you come in next time. You'll look sharp," he said.

"Yes, sir." I'd also research tiger muskies in my spare time. As much as I was looking forward to the fishing trip this weekend, I prayed that I didn't catch any trout.

_**. . .**_

The next afternoon found Bella and me hard at work. She was on the computer sorting through T-shirt submissions and I was finishing homework. Or, at least, I was trying to finish. Again with the simplest tasks being complicated around Bella. Homeland security implements a color-coded advisory alert system to measure the level of threat against the US which looks like this:

Green – Low  
Blue – Guarded  
Yellow – Elevated  
Orange – High  
Red – Severe

I had instituted a similar system when I started dating Bella, except the green, blue, and yellow alerts were utterly useless. There was only Code Orange, Code Red and Code Helm's Deep, which is something I had come up with for when I was in dire situations. Like now.

"Edward, we really should work on MyT-Spot this Saturday."

I cringed. Part of me wished I had never found out what T-spot rhymed with. Was it my fault I ran across _that_ word in my mother's _Cosmopolitan_ magazine (which, by the way, I had only been reading for the health articles)? No. Therefore, any dirty thoughts and, uh, things that happened from said dirty thoughts were also not my fault.

"And then if we finish early, we can watch _The Sound of Music_ for Musical Theater."

Oh, how I wished Bella's hills were alive with the sound of music — I'd sit at my piano and make her beautiful music all day. Of their own accord, my eyes zeroed in on Bella's chest. She was wearing the "Shieldmaiden of Rohan" shirt I had designed, which was enough to make my palms grow sweaty. It hugged her figure tightly and accentuated her—

"Edward?"

My name on her lips – oh, how it sent a shiver down my spine and a jolt to my—

"Edward, are you listening to me?"

"Yes. I'm sorry; this book is engrossing." I had to at least pretend like I wasn't the most perverted person on the planet.

She glanced at it curiously. "Isn't that your Algebra book?"

"Well, yes. But logarithms require my undivided attention." Hopefully I could keep up the facade that I was her studious boyfriend and not a hormone-driven sexual deviant for at least a few years longer.

"If you say so," she said. "What do you think about Saturday?"

"I can't actually do anything on Saturday." Bella's face fell. "It's not that I don't want to, because trust me, there is nothing I'd like to do more than spend it with you!" I hurried to assure her, while trying to find some reasonably legitimate excuse. "But I have to do this 'male-bonding' thing."

Bella stood up from the computer chair and turned in the direction of my dresser. "With who?"

"My father." Technically, it was a lie. Metaphorically, it wasn't. Chief Swan was like a second father. And also, if things went my way, he would be my father-in-law four years, ten months, and fourteen days from now (June 20, 2007 – my nineteenth birthday).

Bella was wandering around my room, at times running her fingers along something she found interesting, like the edge of my dresser or a book on my shelf. I loved it when she touched my thing – er, _things_. "Oh? And what are you and your father doing?"

"Sports," I rattled off. Fishing was a sport. Kind of.

"Which one?" she pressed.

"Baseball," I said, hating to outright lie to the one person in the world I loved more than anything. Fishing was a dead giveaway to who I'd be spending Saturday with, and I wasn't ready to divulge mine and Chief Swan's little secret. I couldn't find any possible phrasing that made sneaking around her back for over a year and volunteering at the station with her father sound good.

"That's interesting," Bella said, changing course in her walk around my room. My jaw clenched. She was heading for my bed. This was never a good thing. For her.

It could be very _frustrating_, being in love with the most wickedly beautiful girl on the planet, but for the most part it was manageable. However, the sight of her wavy brunette locks, her fair skin, and her stunning figure standing so close to my queen sized bed had a tendency to remind me of the fact that my once stainless sheets needed to be thrown in the washing machine… again.

"So, where are you going to play baseball at?" Bella asked, running a finger over my comforter. On occasion, I wondered if she intentionally did this to torture me. Then I remembered this was _Bella_ – pure, sweet, innocent, perfect Bella who had no idea of the inner-workings of a teenage boy's mind and could not possibly derive any pleasure from the subsequent torment I suffered at her tantalizing image.

This is why I had come up with Code Helm's Deep. In this situation, I needed to avert my eyes to something bland, think of the fanart drawing I had accidentally run across of Gandalf and Gimli _doing_ _things_, and come up with an excuse for Bella to get away from the bed. My attention focused on the jar of change I had on my dresser and said, "Bella, I think that you should, uh, probably go wash your hands."

"You think my hands are dirty?" I took my eyes off the jaw (not the best idea). She was absolutely gorgeous in her fury, and that wasn't doing anything to help my… reaction.

"If it helps, you're amazingly pretty," I said. According to _Teen Vogue_ magazine (which, by the way, I only read for the movie review on LotR), seven out of ten teenage girls are insecure about their appearance. Ever since reading that statistic, I'd made it a goal to ensure Bella felt beautiful. I stood up from the seat by the window and walked over to her, letting my fingers glide softly against her perfect cheek. "Truly, you are the most gorgeous girl in the world."

Her eyes softened and a shy smile lit up her face.

"However," I said, "you touched my dresser and it's been a week since I dusted. I wouldn't want you to get sick because of my carelessness."

"That's the sweetest thing anyone has ever told me," she said wistfully. I couldn't resist kissing her, what with that beautiful smile and her face being so close to mine. My lips went first to her cheek where my fingers had been moments before, and then to her lips.

Kissing Bella was like nothing I had experienced. It was unearthly, the connection I felt with her when our lips touched, our hands knotted around each other. It was better than playing the piano or reading _The Lord of the Rings_. It was more than fireworks or a chorus of angels singing. It was the most blissful and exciting feeling in the world, but peaceful at the same time. It _moved_ me, and whenever I walked away from a kiss like this, I left a changed man. Bella was my other half. I had known this from the moment I saw her.

She pulled away, looking both innocent and mischievous. I had seen this look on her face several times, and the hormone-driven sexual deviant in me did a victory lap. "Since we can't do it on Saturday, why don't we go down to the movie room and watch _The Sound of Music_ now?"

Had I mentioned the movie room was my favorite room in the house?

_**. . .**_

September 13th was akin to a national holiday for me. Early this morning, I'd snuck into the school to decorate Bella's locker for her birthday. Three dozen daisies had been shipped in from Seattle late last night so they would be fresh today, and I had found daisy-themed wrapping paper at a gift shop in Port Angeles the week before. It was probably over-the-top, but I couldn't resist the dainty, white flowers with too many petals that reminded me so much of her.

My favorite part, however, was the sign that I had stayed up most of the night making for her. I'd spent an hour tracing out her name with a stencil to make sure it was perfect, and even longer painting and embellishing it with her favorite colors. I then added the final touch – "Born 2:57 a.m., September 13, 1988." Bella was going to love it.

All right, she was going to hate it. I wasn't an idiot (my IQ being 130), but I couldn't help myself; my favorite day of the year was September 13th. Not only was it the day my beloved was born, but this date last year was also the first time I got to hold Bella in my arms as we danced underneath the twinkle lights in Forks Middle School's gym. It went unacknowledged because I didn't know it was her birthday, and unfortunately the event was marred by Alice (agaryulnaer) Brandon. I wasn't going to make the same mistake this time. Everything was going to be perfect, and even if she didn't want it, I was going to spoil Bella with as much love, affection, and gifts as I could give her.

Conveniently, there was a soda machine about ten yards away from Bella's locker that was perfect to hide behind in order to do homework (read: make-out) in private. I hid behind it now to watch Bella's face when she saw her locker for the first time.

She looked absolutely gorgeous entering the hallway, with a window above her that cast the morning sunlight into a halo over her head. She was my angel. And true to Bella, she couldn't help but stumble as she made her way down the staircase to her locker. I let out a lighthearted laugh and vowed to always be there so she could stumble into my arms.

Bella covertly looked around to see if anyone had noticed. My smile grew even wider because, little did she know, I was always watching. Okay, that sounded creepy. I wasn't a stalker. I mean, it's not like I snuck in her room nightly to watch her sleep or anything.

The moment Bella spotted her locker she froze and her face grew that beautiful rosy red that I loved. She looked both livid and horrified. With shaky steps, she approached the locker, glancing around her, I presumed, to see if I was standing nearby. When she didn't see me, she resolutely strode towards her locker, determined, I'm sure, to rip off the wrapping paper.

But once she got there, she stood stock-still. I had never seen a sight so breathtaking—Bella, still bathed in gold, her face softening as she read the three tiny words I had written at her eye-level, only to be seen by her:_ Amin mela lle_.

It meant "I love you" in Elvish. I was sure she'd known this for a long time. My only question and worry was, why hadn't she said it back to me, yet?

She resisted the urge to rip off the wrapping paper, at least for now, and went about getting her books for her first period class. I waited until she was on her way to English before stepping out from behind the soda machine. The smile still hadn't left my face when I walked into the gym locker room. I was going to have to rush through getting changed for PE, but it was worth being late.

I walked over to my locker and began pulling out my gym clothes, biting my lip to keep from laughing out loud as I replayed the look on Bella's face. I knew exactly what image would be fueling my, er, _dreams_ later tonight.

"_—second base with Alice Brandon last year and, shit, her body is bangin' hot."_

"_Dude, what body? She weighs, like, eighty pounds. Now her sister, that's a nice piece of ass."_

Teenage boys could be so crass. I tried blocking out the crude conversation going on in the next row of lockers by returning to a happier train of thought. I envisioned what Bella would look like in the gown I'd bought for her birthday. I'd had it tailored based off a pattern from one of Arwen's dresses in LotR, excited that this one specifically showed off a bit of her ches—

"_Come on, you'd seriously rather do Cynthia over Alice?"_

"_Dude, I'd do 'em both. That threesome is waiting to happen."_

Why did they have to be so vile? I recollected the color of fabric I'd picked out, a lighter shade of blue, of course. Blue always looked best on her and there was always the chance the pale fabric would be see th—

"_The tough question is whether I'd hit it with Brandon or Bella Swan…" _

My body stiffened. I gripped my gym T-shirt firmly.

"…'_cause Brandon's rep tells you she's a freak in the sack, while Swan, you know she has a tight, little—"_

I squeezed my eyes shut, gripping the T-shirt tighter in my palm, and prayed that their voices would go away. This wasn't the first time the boys at school had talked about Bella; she was the most gorgeous girl in school so it was bound to happen. But it had never been this sickening, this _revolting_ before, at least not right in front of me.

"_Are you kidding? You know her and Cullen haven't done shit together."_

"_That's the best part! She's got that, 'Pure, ripe for the picking' vibe. But, man, if I could get her on her knees—"_

"SHUT UP!" I roared, pounding my T-shirt covered fist against the locker in front of me. The image he had forced upon me of my precious angel on her knees before him made me queasy, and I had never felt so much fury in my life. I flung around the row of lockers to face Michael Newton and Tyler Crowley. "_Never_ speak about her like that again."

They both looked surprised to see me standing there, but Tyler soon recovered by chuckling good-naturedly and saying, "You know we were only kidding around."

"Well don't," I said.

"Dude, you can't tell us what we can and can't say," Mike said. "Swan's one fine piece of ass, and if you won't tap that, she's fair game."

"Shut up."

"You can't keep me from speaking my mind, bro. It's my first amendment right to free speech," Mike said, a laugh in his voice. "And I'm thinking that you should give Swan my number so I can show her how a _real_ man can make her see God and all the apostles. That bitch will scream my name_—_"

Something in me snapped. Rage. I felt an insurmountable rage flood my body. I pounced on Mike. My fist connected with his jaw. The T-shirt I had been gripping was gone, letting a satisfying sting electrify my knuckle. My arm swung back and lashed again. It was more the unexpectedness of my attack than actual skill that allowed me to hit Mike again and again, before I felt Tyler's arms wrap around my chest and pull me back.

Mike stood up from where I had rammed him into the locker. "What the hell, Cullen!" He wiped blood from his nose.

"Don't you ever say her name again. EVER!" I yelled, struggling against Tyler's grip.

Mike laughed. "I'll say her name while she's giving me h_—_"

There was a loud bang from behind me. Tyler groaned in pain, then released me. I saw Mike's eyes widen as I flew at him, tackling him to the concrete ground. Just when I was about to land another punch, he managed to knee me in the gut… hard. A deep grunt fell from my lips. I lost my balance and rolled over, enough to see that, of all people, Emmett McCarty was holding Tyler down so he couldn't interfere.

Mike used my moment of distraction to push me off and stand up. Gaining my equilibrium back, I lunged for Mike's knees with enough force to knock him off his feet and back into the locker. He groaned loudly with the impact of the fall. I crawled over to where he was lying, and yanked the front of his T-shirt so he looked me in the eye. "Don't you ever speak about her again," I said, breathless from the fight. Mike eyed me warily.

"Edward, we have to get out of here." I turned to the sound of Emmett's voice. "Coach Clapp is going to freak if he finds us _—_ holy shit!" I heard, rather than felt, the impact of Mike's fist connecting with my eye. It took a second for the full force of the disorienting pain to hit me, and, when it did, I fought back a whimper I wouldn't give Mike the pleasure of hearing.

"Dude, that was not cool," Emmett reprimanded.

"He started it!" Mike whined.

"Whatever, man. Sucker punches are for pussies," Emmett said, clear disgust in his voice. "And I heard what you were saying about Bella Swan. You don't talk about another man's girl like that."

Mike clearly had a death wish. He chuckled and said, "You're just saying that 'cause Royce fu-"

I barely managed to get out of Emmett's way as he thundered toward Mike and kicked him firmly in the gut. "Shut the hell up, asshole." Emmett turned his furious gaze towards Tyler who was hovering at the other end of the lockers. He pointed to his foot and then to Mike. "That didn't happen," he told him, a silent threat in his words. "And I was trying to get Edward off Mike, not hold you back."

Tyler looked between Emmett and Mike, who was pathetically clutching his stomach on the floor, then to me. I simply shrugged – I wasn't about to rat out Emmett. Tyler nodded in agreement.

Emmett grinned wildly. "Well, I guess that about makes you a hero, doesn't it?" he said with a pat on my back.

"Uh, sure?" I said. A _hero_?

Emmett laughed, but it was cut off by the shrieking sound of a whistle. All four of us looked up to find Coach Clapp standing in the doorway and his face told me that, hero or not, I was in a tremendous amount of trouble.

_**. . .**_

It's funny how a certain situation can bring back memories of events from your childhood. In first grade, the entire class would go out to the park and play Power Rangers together. The boys would run around pretending to throw punches and kicks at each other, while the girls argued over who got to be the Pink Ranger. Specifically, I remembered this one time where Mike was pretending to punch me, and accidentally hit my nose. There was blood everywhere and Emmett, as the blue ranger and therefore the healer, volunteered to take me to the nurse's office. As we were walking off the playground, Mike "tripped" over Emmett's shoelaces and had to go to the nurse, too.

I'd forgotten all about that until about ten seconds ago, and now I felt a slight tinge of nostalgia sitting in the reception area of the principal's office with Mike and Emmett.

The three of us had already gone in to recount what happened to Principal Benson (or, at least, recount what Emmett had told us to say) and the school nurse had stopped by to check out my and Mike's injuries. She gave us disappointed looks and muttered several, "tut tut tut's" under her breath. Mike was a lot worse off than I was, but I still managed my fair share of bruises and a cut above my eyebrow.

Mike was sitting in the chair across the coffee table with an ice-pack over his eye. Tyler was taking his turn talking to the principal. Emmett had spent the last five minutes asking me intrusive questions about Bella's and my sexual relationship (or lack thereof). "Dude, you're telling me that you and Bella haven't done _anything_ anything?"

"No."

"But _how_?"

"Not everything in a relationship is about sex," I said, hoping that Ms. Cope was sufficiently distracted so as not to overhear the contents of our whispered conversation.

"Well, duh. It's not _all_ about sex. There are obviously other things, ya know?" He paused for a moment, then looked at me suspiciously. "Wait, do you know that there are _other things_?"

I couldn't help but crack a smile. Emmett had been a good friend when we were seven, but we had drifted apart when I discovered LotR and he discovered what was under Rosalie Hale's pink Power Ranger costume. "Yes, I know there are other things. I choose not do them."

"But why?"

"Because Bella is not a harlot. She's a lady and deserves to be treated as such," I explained, amused by this whole line of questioning. "Sure, Bella and I could give in and do stuff together, but what's the rush? We have our whole lives to spend together."

"You do realize that only, like, two percent of high school couples actually get married, right?"

"The other ninety-eight percent didn't have what Bella and I share," I answered earnestly. "But what about you and Rosalie? Don't you…" I trailed off as I noticed a slight tightening in Emmett's eyes and jaw. After a few moments of awkwardly letting the last statement hang in the air, I glanced down at my watch for something else to look at and was surprised by the time. There was only two hours left before lunch and I wanted this all to be over before Bella had the chance to worry. "I wonder what's taking so long."

Emmett snorted. "I bet Crowley's in there squealing like a little girl."

"I don't think so. You do a fairly convincing imitation of the Enforcer."

"Well, you do a fairly convincing imitation of The Rock," he said.

"Mostly it was luck. And I couldn't have done it without you, so thanks."

"I was looking to kick someone's ass anyway," Emmett said. "But aren't you worried? I mean, shit like this goes on your transcript."

Never once until this moment had I even considered the fact that this would blemish my perfect record – a record I'd spent the last decade of my life striving to keep flawless. "No, I guess I'm not. I promise, though, to make sure none of this goes against your record. You were only trying to help me. Provided Tyler isn't 'squealing like a girl,' you should be fine."

Emmett laughed. "Dude, that wasn't for me; that was all about you. I don't give a shit about my permanent record." I must have looked as confused as I felt because he said, "Come on, man. You beat the shit out of Mike Newton and had to have both Tyler Crowley and the great Emmett McCarty pull you off him? That shit is legendary, man. No dude will be talking smack about your girl for years to come."

A small smile crept onto my mouth. "So, you did that to—" I was interrupted by the office door swinging open. Chief Swan walked in and over to Ms. Cope's desk.

I. Was. So. Screwed.

"Dude, you are so screwed," Mike said. "They called the police. You are totally getting booked for this."

"Shut the hell up, idiot," Emmett said. "You were the one making inappropriate comments about the police chief's only daughter."

Mike's face paled, and he remained silent after that.

"Chief Swan, I'm glad that you're here," Principal Benson said, leading Tyler out of his office. "Crowley, McCarty, you can both return to your classes now."

Chief Swan shook Principal Benson's hand and mumbled something I couldn't hear. Grabbing his backpack, Emmett stood up from his chair. "Do you tell Bella the truth about everything?"

"I try to," I said, feeling qualmish about the fact that I hadn't yet told her about my relationship with her father, and realizing she was probably going to find out later that night when he prohibited her from seeing me again.

"Well don't tell her the truth about this. I mean, at least not the whole truth. Remember – _legendary_," he said with a wink. "Good luck, buddy." On his way to the exit, Emmett stopped where Chief Swan was standing and whispered something in his ear. The Chief shot a furious glance at Mike, who turned green. He let his gaze linger on Mike, then turned back to the principal.

I couldn't have looked much better than Mike. Four days ago Chief Swan had presented me with solid evidence that I was in his good graces, and now any goodwill I had built up over the past year was gone. It was devastating to realize how deeply this one mishap could affect my relationship with Bella.

"Mr. Cullen, you are free to leave with Chief Swan now," the principal said. Holy Faramir! I was going to jail.

"Don't look so pleased, Mr. Newton," Chief Swan snapped. "I'll be placing a personal call to your parents tonight. Come along, Edward." Hopefully one good thing would come out of this, and Chief Swan's threat would scare Mike into never thinking about touching Bella again.

My gait was unsteady as I followed Chief Swan into the hallway. What he was about to do was going to hurt far worse than any punch Mike might throw at me. If he forbade me from seeing Bella again, I'd find a way to be with her no matter what (even if it _did_ involve sneaking into her window at night). I needed her like I needed to breathe.

Chief Swan shut the office door behind me, but didn't continue on to the school exit. He just stood there, and not wanting to be rude, I opted to stand by the door as well. "He, the principal, wanted to give you seven days suspension for the fight," Chief Swan said. "But I was able to talk him down to three days suspension with twenty-five hours of community service."

"Oh," I said, not sure if it would be appropriate to thank him.

"And we'll go ahead and consider the community service time-served from the hours you put in down at the station," he said.

"Okay. Thank you, sir, for letting me serve under you for so long. It was truly an honor. I'll return my police uniform to you later this afternoon," I said, truly sad that my time at the sheriff's department was ending due to this foolish debacle. "I also understand that you may have to arrest me for assaulting Mike Newton. I accept that."

"Edward, you don't have to—"

"But please," I interrupted as a sudden wave of desperation swept over me, "don't force me to stay away from Bella over this. I couldn't stand it if you did. I know statistically speaking fifty-eight percent of people arrested for assault are likely to be repeat offenders, but I promise that I will never do anything like this again. And I would _never_ do anything to hurt Bella or put her in danger. I will always protect her, even if it is against myself." There was something in my eye and it began to water up. I averted my gaze from his, furiously blinking.

Chief Swan had been silent during my speech, watching me carefully, as if to detect any falsehood in my words. "I know that my daughter is safe with you," he finally said, and I let out a sigh of relief. "Edward, I'm not here today to fire you from the police station or to arrest you for assault. I'm here as your emergency contact because your father is in surgery and your mother is on a field trip with the middle school."

"What?"

"Your parents asked me to be your emergency contact a few months ago because your grandmother lives farther away," he clarified. "And, uh, also, we spend a lot of time together, you and me." He cleared his throat and looked off at the lockers. "Edward, you should know that if you ever need anything at all, you can count on me to be there and have your back. As the Chief of Police, I have to say that your actions were reprehensible. But as Bella's father, I need to thank you for sticking up for her, for protecting her, the way you did. That's how I know that she's safe with you and, uh, I'm proud of you, son, for taking care of my little girl."

There were no words to describe how I felt at his words. It was quickly becoming one of my best non-Bella related moments in my life. "I promise to spend the rest of my life protecting Bella, sir."

He chuckled. "Edward, I admire your dedication, but only two percent of high school sweethearts actually get married and you've only just started ninth grade. There are other _fish_ in the sea, so to speak."

"No, sir," I said. "I may be young, but I know that Bella is the only fish for me." Chief Swan was looking at me in that intense way he had when we'd talked about fish in his office and comprehension slowly dawned. When the Chief talked about "fish" he wasn't talking about fish at all – he was talking about Bella. It was the most obvious metaphor in the world. "She's my tiger muskie."

His eyes probed mine for any hint of insincerity. He mustn't have found any because he nodded, saying, "You better go get the stuff you'll need over the next few days. I'll bring Bella over to your house after school is finished."

I turned away from him to walk to my locker, a feeling of victory swelling in my chest. It was baffling that my assault of Mike Newton turned out so splendidly, but I still couldn't help the small smile that lit my face at the thought of officially having Chief Swan's approval. My smile faltered, however, when I realized just how strange our conversation had been the other day. I was going to have to re-evaluate everything that he had ever said about fish. An involuntary shiver ran down my spine as I realized he wasn't talking about "cooking" fish for our wedding.

Oh well – only four years, ten months, and twelve days to go.

_**. . .**_

As Edward gathered his school supplies, Charlie noticed something rather odd on the other side of the hallway and walked over to investigate.

_Bella Swan_

_Born 2:57 a.m., September 13, 1988_

The locker was ridiculously flamboyant, but what caught Charlie's attention was the barely noticeable message inscribed in tiny handwritten letters, "Amin mela lle." Charlie decided then and there that at Edward and Bella's wedding, he'd swear on his mother's grave that he'd never had a doubt in his mind that they'd end up together.

_**. . .**_

**A/N: **Thank you to **xsecretxkeeperx** and **acciodanrad9** for being amazing betas as always. And also, a special thanks to **wime**, **squalloogal**, **ms. ambrosia**, and **jackbauer** for pre-reading bits and pieces of this chapter to make sure it all fit together. Also, to every single person who reviewed last chapter, you have no idea how much your kind words have meant to me. The support this story has gotten from the fandom astonishes me – I'm so incredibly lucky. Thank you so much!

Up Next.._. Chapter Fourteen: The First Time She Noticed a Problem_


	16. The First Time She Noticed a Problem

**An Introduction to Swirl and Daisy: The Non-Romantic Romance**

Disclaimer: Any Twilight characters that may appear in this story belong to Stephenie Meyer. The remainder is my original work. No reproduction is allowed without my written consent.

**A/N**: Thank you **xsecretxkeeperx** and **acciodanrad9** for being incredible betas and to **squallogal** and **wime** for pre-reading! And to everyone who reviewed, alerted, or favorited this story, thank you so much for your support!

_Chapter Thirteen: The First Time She Noticed a Problem_

_**. . .**_

"How hard is it to get a damn 'I love you?'" My locker slammed shut. "Edward all but proposes marriage last week. Yet, he can't say a simple, teeny-tiny term to let me know he cares?" The rustling fabric of my books being stuffed into my backpack covered Angela's exasperated sigh. This wasn't the first or second or hundredth time I'd brought up this topic.

"As I've said before on numerous occasions, you've got to give it time," she said. "He'll tell you when he's ready."

"Time? I've given him plenty of time. Time is not a luxury I can afford at this rate."

"Fine. You should tell him. Take control. You are a strong, independent woman," Angela said with conviction.

"I am?"

"Yes."

"Fine, I'll tell Edward I love him the day you ask Ben Cheney out on a date."

Angela looked down at her scuffling shoes. "That's not the same thing and you know it. Edward at least feels _something_ for you. Ben just…" she trailed off dejectedly.

I gave her an encouraging nudge. "Oh, come on. The signs are all there. You're just too clueless to notice them."

"I am not clueless."

"Fine, maybe not clueless, but definitely oblivious."

"You've been playing with your thesaurus again, I see." Banter was so easy and effortless with Angela. It was kind of like having a female Edward around, except without _the Lord of the Rings_ obsession and the making out. "So, remind me again, why won't you tell Edward that you love him first?"

"Because that's not how these things work. The boy is supposed to tell the girl that he loves her first. Just like the boy is supposed to ask the girl out on the first date, and the boy is supposed to ask her to be his girlfriend, and the boy is supposed to propose."

"You know, there is this thing called _feminism_. This isn't nineteenth-century England we're talking about. It's 2002 – you can wear pants, you can vote, and you're allowed to be forward with the boy you're in love with. If not for you, do it for the sake of all the women who fought to give you those rights," she said.

"Yeah. This coming from a girl who has crushed on a boy for over two years and still hasn't had the guts to do anything about it."

My point was so obviously rock-solid that Angela changed the subject. "Have you decided whether you want to go to the midnight showing of _Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets_ with me?"

Now that was a whole other kettle of fish. Edward detested _Harry Potter_ on a molecular level (in an Alyssa Milano versus Shannen Doherty way). If I did go to the movie, I'd have to keep him from finding out or risk his wrath. Trust was important in a relationship. Edward would never lie to me again after the incident with his mother, and he deserved the same courtesy from me. Still, I wanted to go.

"I'm not sure, yet," I said.

"This is about Edward, isn't it?"

"Uh, I guess you could kind of say that." I braced myself for another feminism speech.

She didn't disappoint. "Bella, you are allowed to be your own person. You are allowed to like things that Edward doesn't like. That's what makes life interesting."

"Yes, I know that," I said somewhat heatedly. "But this is something Edward is extremely passionate about. There are things he doesn't like, that he does for me."

"Like what?" she asked. "You work for the company that _he_ created. You watch all the movies that _he_ likes—"

"Hey! He watched _Crossroads_ with me."

"You saw _The Lord of the Rings_ seventeen times in theaters because he wanted to! What has he done that you like to do?"

The first thing that entered my mind was, "He transferred into Musical Theater to be with me." She opened her mouth to say something, but closed it. "Just spit it out," I said, annoyed with my best friend.

"Fine. You know that I really like Edward. But Musical Theater? You have to admit, he is a bit clingy."

I felt like I had been slapped. "He is _not_ clingy. And, it so happens that a lot of the things we enjoy overlap. I don't hate _Lord of the Rings_… that much," I added at Angela's quirked eyebrow.

"Look, as I said, I like Edward a lot. I'm not telling you this so you'll break up with him, but my advice is that you two need to start doing things apart. Haven't you noticed that he doesn't have any real guy friends?"

"We do a lot of things apart. Seriously, he spends every Saturday with his father, and you and I always have sleepovers. And why does he need guy friends?"

"Would you say that you don't need me as a best friend?" She didn't sound hurt, only logical. And she made a good argument. I wouldn't be complete if we weren't friends.

But, I wasn't about to admit defeat quite yet. "I'll think about what you said. I have to get to class. See you later."

"Okay, and think about _Harry Potter_ some more while you're at it," she said, breaking off in the other direction.

Edward's smiling face was waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs. Most of the bruising from his fight with Mike had gone down, but he still looked ruggedly handsome with a tint of blue and black around his eye. No matter how many times I caught myself staring at Edward, I was always surprised to find him more gorgeous than the time before. I truly was blessed, whatever Angela said to the contrary.

"Are you going to stand there checking me out for the rest of the day or are we going to go class?" he asked. I loved that we could joke about things we'd once been shy and insecure about.

"Checking you out is far more amusing than Musical Theater."

"I heartily disagree," he said, grabbing my hand.

"Of course you do. Checking yourself out isn't half as amusing as checking out someone else," I said. "Unless you're Fabio."

Edward snorted. "Well, sorry to disappoint you, but I'm no Fabio."

"No, you're better," I said. "Ripped abs and big muscles don't impress me too much, nor does a guy who looks like his hair is a ridiculously cheap wig. Not to mention, he walks around half-naked most of the time and has a habit of spouting out stupid lines like, 'The clouds I can handle, but I can't fight with an eclipse.' Who says stuff like that anyway?"

"Is there a point to all this?" Edward cut off my ramblings, an amused look in his eye.

"Yes. I was trying to say that I find you rather attractive." I wanted to tell him he was downright edible (kind of like chocolate ice cream), but our relationship probably couldn't survive any more food analogies.

"Really?" Edward asked. "In that case, you should know that listing off another man's physical qualities doesn't exactly appeal to the male ego."

"And what does?"

"Hmm." He tapped a thoughtful finger to his chin. "If you kissed me right now."

A smile spread across my face. I leaned up and said, "If that's all it takes to make you feel attractive, then I promise that after school today I'll make you feel like the most attractive man in the world."

He groaned softly and stepped away. "Bella, you can't say stuff like that to me in the middle of the school day."

"Why not?" I asked, surprised by his obvious reluctance to my proposed make-out session. "Do you not want to?"

Edward laughed ironically and dragged me into the Musical Theater classroom, muttering something that sounded like, "Ridiculous, silly, perfect girl," along the way. Once we'd taken our seats in the back, he said, "What I was saying before you distracted me with talk of checking myself out and Fabio was that I find Musical Theater to be quite entertaining."

"And why is that?" I asked, distractedly searching my backpack for last week's notes on different theater productions.

"Because it's far more amusing to check you out while you're in front of the class singing."

I stopped my search and turned towards him in surprise. Edward was always telling me how beautiful and pretty I was, but I'd never stopped to consider that he might see me the same way I saw him. "You check me out?"

"You're not the only one with eyes, Bella." He tried to maintain a confident expression, but the pink tint at the top of his ears gave away his timidity. He normally wasn't this forward. "And I know you won't believe me, but when you sing you have the sweetest, most beautiful voice."

I chortled at that and went back to searching through my backpack. Edward, however, grabbed my hand before I could complete the task. "Sometimes I think I don't tell you often enough how wonderful you are," he said.

My heart fluttered, as it normally did when he said things like that. "Funny. I was just thinking the same thing."

"Edward, you're back!" Alice f-word Brandon plopped herself in a neighboring chair, ruining the moment the way only she could. "I've been dying to get your side of the fight with Mike since last week." This had been a constant annoyance for Edward throughout the day. He had never been what people would consider classically popular (even though he _was_ the best looking guy in school), but today had been filled with random people trying to give him high-fives and asking what went down. He was practically on auto-pilot by now, saying that it was no big deal and highly exaggerated from the tale we had heard while he was suspended.

He told Alice the same thing, but she scoffed and said, "Come on! You beat the crap out of Mike. What's your secret? You don't seem like the kind of guy who could do that."

Clearly at the end of his patience, he said, "I had an adrenaline rush. It's very common. You can Google it."

I cracked up at his jab. Seeing Edward loosen up and not be such a perfect gentleman was thrilling. Alice, clearly irritated that her question wasn't going to be answered to her satisfaction, stood up and walked away without another word. I wanted to shout out to her and the rest of the world that I loved this man. I could feel the words on the tip of my tongue, but I _wasn't_ going to be the one that said it first. So I spat a random question out instead. "What's Google?"

Edward looked at me in bewilderment. "You don't know what Google is?"

"Never heard of it."

Mrs. McCrae came into the classroom and started talking before he could respond. "We have a very busy day today. We're going to take a little trip to the school auditorium. That is where our play will be held at the end of the school year, and I'm happy to announce that I have finally decided on what that production is going to be." The girls in the class perked up, all desperate to be the lead in the play, the center of the spotlight.

"Keep in mind that auditions for the production won't be held until the beginning of February," Mrs. McCrae reminded the class, I assumed in response to the girls' wistful glances. For the life of me, I couldn't understand what was so appealing about being in a musical, much less the lead. I was perfectly happy to sit back and watch the mindless cattle clamor for that dooming role. "We'll be performing Roger and Hammerstein's _Cinderella._"

The first thing that went through my mind was that she had the worst taste in musicals ever.

The second thing that crossed my mind, almost eclipsing the first thought altogether, was that someone was going to have to be Prince Charming, and it sure as hell wasn't going to be Eric Yorkie. Horror gripped me as I realized that _I_ was going to have to play Cinderella. I'd be damned before any other girl got to be Edward's leading lady.

At this revelation, a barrage of terrifying snapshots flashed before my eyes. The worst of which was me in a blonde wig and puffy blue dress tumbling down a prop staircase, landing on my head, and flashing the entire school my underwear. Edward must have felt the anxiety rolling off me because when I asked to be excused to the bathroom, he offered to come with me.

"Don't be ridiculous," I whispered. "I'm going to the _girls_' bathroom."

The halls were completely deserted. I basked in the eerie stillness, oddly comforted by walking down one desolate corridor after another while my mind worked through the repugnance at being one of mindless cattle fighting for Cinderella. So consumed in my thoughts was I, that a surprised squawk escaped me when I opened the bathroom door. A girl hovered over the sink, washing tears from her eyes.

"What the fuck are you doing in here?" Rosalie Hale asked.

"This is the girls' bathroom," I said; though, really, it was kind of obvious.

Rosalie rolled her eyes and went back to wiping the tears from her reddened cheeks. "Well, are you going to stand there staring at me or are you going to do your business and get the hell out?"

Not being the type of girl that could pee on demand, I hurried to a stall and grabbed a handful of toilet paper, warily offering it to Rosalie when I returned. She snatched the tissue from me and blew her nose loudly. The un-ladylike foghorn noise was not what I expected.

"What are you staring at?" she barked. I directed my gaze to the mirror instead. The difference between the two of us was startling. Rosalie was tall, blonde, and statuesque; I was short, brunette, and completely ordinary. I didn't care in the least, though. Edward never liked blondes anyway. "Thank you," she said, throwing away the tissue.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I asked, feeling adventurous today.

"Why? So you can gossip about the woes of Rosalie Hale around school? No, thank you," Rosalie said incredulously.

"No, of course not! I don't have that many people to talk to – only Edward Cullen and Angela Webber. And I wouldn't tell either of them. I just thought I could help." She wasn't convinced. "Look, a while ago someone found me in a bathroom crying. I ended up telling her what was wrong and I felt so much better afterwards. And she even gave me great advice that helped me out tons."

"Oh, really?" she asked sarcastically. "If that's true, then what was your problem?"

If I wasn't genuinely worried for her emotional well-being, I probably wouldn't have admitted, "I was dressing like a skank to try and impress Edward."

"I remember that! It was pretty cringe-worthy."

"Thanks."

Rosalie drummed her finger on the sink, considering my offer. "Fine," she said abruptly. "Emmett broke up with me."

My eyes widened in disbelief. "But why? You guys seemed so perfect for each other!"

"It's all my fault," she sobbed, another round of tears slipping down her cheeks.

I reached out a hand and patted her clumsily on the back. "What happened?"

She looked at me through her tears. "You promise you won't tell anyone?"

"Pinky promise."

_**. . .**_

_09/19/2002_

_OMG, Diary, this is completely scandalous, so brace yourself._

_A few nights ago Rosalie and Emmett got into a fight because Rosalie saw Emmett talking to Alice and Alice was flirting. I'm beginning to really dislike that girl. Emmett swore that nothing was going on, but Rosalie wouldn't hear it. Rosalie (I have to admit) is kind of a slut. She showed Emmett's best friend her bra and snuck out her house that night to go make out with him to get even with Emmett. _

_Royce told Emmett and both of them decided they couldn't take the pressure. And now she's alone. __I do feel sort of bad for her, even though it WAS her fault._ But I didn't tell Rosalie that. I let her tell me everything and told her I wasn't going to take sides. But, yeah, I was fighting to keep my mouth shut, especially when I found out that this is the third time Emmett and Rosalie have broken up.  


___All this happened because of a lack of trust on Rosalie's part. She should have known that Emmett would never cheat on her with that skank Alice._ I really hope nothing like this ever happens with me and Edward, and I'm confident it won't. Edward and I are perfect for each other, and I know I could never find another man attractive like I find Edward attractive (except his father, but if you think about it, it makes sense that I would find Dr. Cullen a little hot because Edward has half his genes).

_I love that I can trust Edward to never be with anyone but me. I love that I can trust him to share my thoughts and feelings, and in return, I love that he trusts me enough to share his with me.__ I don't know what I'd do if Edward and I ever broke up._

_Anyways, got to go to bed. I'm still debating about the midnight showing of _Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets_. What do you think I should do?_

_Bella _

_**. . .**_

It was a Saturday in October. Edward was at a paper airplane convention with his father, Angela was stuck at home with her twin brothers, and I was bored out of my mind. As luck would have it, Charlie had forgotten his lunch in the refrigerator. Being the fantastic daughter I am (and so painstakingly unengaged), I decided to trek over to the Police Station to bring it to him.

Imagine my surprise when, forty-five minutes and two nose dives later, I walked in to find Mini-Charlie behind the front desk_._ And by Mini-Charlie I meant Edward, dressed in a navy-colored police uniform complete with boots and a small, gold sheriff's badge. Add a mustache and he'd have been the exact replica of my father twenty years ago. It was freaking me out.

"I'll be right with you," Edward said, having not looked up amid the station door opening. His attention was focused on a stack of papers and a filing cabinet. Why was he acting like a freaking secretary? Why was he here at all? He filed one more sheet away, then turned to me.

The questions rolled off my tongue perfunctorily. "What's going on? Why aren't you in Seattle? What the hell are you wearing?"

The stack of papers he was holding scattered to the floor. His hands flew to his mouth and a muffled curse sounded through them. Everything in his body language screamed of guilt, uncannily reminding me of the time his mother turned out to be our eighth grade Yearbook teacher. Behind his eyes, that brilliant mind was working a million miles an hour. His hands gave the excuse of procrastination, as they gradually slid down his face until only his bottom lip was pinched between his forefingers.

"The truth, please," I said.

Edward released his lip and puffed out his chest. "I'm a volunteer deputy."

As if _that_ was something to be proud of. "I'm confused. What do you mean you're a volunteer deputy?"

"I," he dragged out the letter, formulating his answer on the spot, "work directly under the Chief to ensure the continued efficiency of a well-organized office."

"So, you're a secretary," I deduced.

He looked taken back by my conclusion. "Well, I wouldn't call it that. As outlined by the Forks Police Department Handbook—"

"How long has this been going on?"

His fingers tapped a nervous rhythm into the surface of his desk. "I guess since September."

"You've been lying to me for the past month? How could you?" I balled my hands into fists to suppress my anger (or to punch him). Looking down at his fingers he mumbled something. "What was that? I couldn't quite hear you."

"I meant," he said louder, "that I've been doing this since September last year."

Raw fury coursed through my veins, fueling my body to vibrate with the enraged pounding of my heart. "Explain yourself."

He at least had the decency to look ashamed. "You know last year when I met your father for the first time?" I tilted my head. "Well, one thing led to another and the opportunity kind of presented itself." He explained about that fateful first meeting. How my father had pretended to think he was coming in to interview to be a volunteer deputy. How he had gone along with it. At least I wasn't the only one Edward lied to. "Of course, he called me out on my falsehood and asked me why I had a letter of recommendation from my mother assuring him that I would be the perfect gentleman to his daughter. The game was up then."

He paused briefly to emphasize the next part of his tale. "I told him you were my soul mate and asked his permission to court you. He gave it under the condition that I volunteer here."

"Isn't that sweet?" I jeered, even though it was. "And then little boy Edward became a liar."

"It wasn't like that. At first, I was too shy to tell you."

"And in the year since? You've been too shy to tell me, but not too shy to stick your tongue down my throat?"

"Look, Bella, I haven't told you because I knew you'd be upset."

"You're damn right I'm upset! How could you do this to me? Lying by omission is still lying, and you did that with your mother. But outright lying to me for the past year..." I took a deep breath. "All I've ever wanted was for you to be honest with me. I tell you everything, absolutely everything, but it seems I'm not good enough for you to talk to." I was on the verge of tears by the end of my speech.

"Edward, what is all the yelling about?" When he saw me, Charlie turned on his heel and walked right back into his office. _Coward_. I'd deal with him later.

In the wake of my father's disruption a silence settled over the office. After a few moments, Edward held out an uncertain hand to me. I turned my back to him.

"Please, Bella." Not even my stubbornness or pride could refuse Edward comfort when he sounded so distraught. Tentatively, I took his hand. He seemed relieved, and led me to the lobby couch. Instead of sitting, Edward knelt on one knee in front of me. It looked like he was about to propose. It was too soon for that though, wasn't it? Oh, heck, I'd probably say yes even if it was. Actually, no, I wouldn't. I was pissed at him, and determined to stay that way.

"I'm so sorry," he said. "I was trying to do the right thing by gaining your father's approval. I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner, but I felt like I was finally getting on his good side. I thought if I told, you'd ask me to stop. And I would have, because I would do anything you asked me. _Anything_. Please, don't tell me that I've messed this up for good. Please tell me I still have a shot with you."

_Oh, be still my pounding heart_. Edward had a way of getting out of trouble with his beautiful words. It upset me that he was charming his way into forgiveness, and pissed me off that it was working. _A year of lies, a year of deceit, a year of not knowing something so pivotal_, I reminded myself. This would have been terribly romantic a year ago. But now all I saw when I looked into his green eyes was a liar (and, well, the perfect features of his face may have been in the peripheral).

I shook my head and stood up, turning my back to him once more. "I don't know, Edward. I don't know what to think. Do I even know you? What else have you been lying about?"

Edward stood as well. "Nothing. I promise."

"What do your promises mean to me now?" I asked sadly.

Edward was silent. He was too silent for too long. When I turned around, his head was buried in his hands. "Look at me," I said. Never had I seen Edward cry before. I wasn't sure if that was what I was witnessing now, but the rims of his eyes were red and his cheeks were flushed. A small piece of my heart broke in a big way.

And that was the moment I knew Edward Cullen loved me. I'd only ever seen that look once on a man's face. It was a vague memory, but that haunted expression had graced my father's features as I'd taken one last look from the back seat of my mother's car.

Precisely how I'd wanted to back then, I took a step towards Edward and leaned into his chest. "I'm so sorry," he mumbled into my hair.

"Yeah, well, you still have to make it up to me." Maybe I was still a little bitter. Okay, I was _very_ bitter. Perhaps it was a lie in itself that I was pretending to forgive Edward, but it was easier than dealing with his absolute devastation.

"I will, I promise. I'll do anything," he said, wrapping his arms around me.

We were, of course, interrupted by Charlie. The way Edward practically jumped out of his skin kind of made it worth it, though. "Hey, Dad, I brought you lunch." I walked to his doorway.

"Why, thank you, Bells. Go ahead and set it in that chair," he said, as if I hadn't just found out he'd lied to me for the last year.

I gave him a stony glare, then accidentally dropped his lunch into the trashcan. "Oops," I said with no remorse. His moustache twitched, but he didn't say anything about it. Instead, he offered a ride home.

"I have to make a call first." I picked up the phone from his desk and dialed one of the only numbers I knew by heart. If Edward was allowed to have secrets, then I could have one of my own. "Angela, count me in for the midnight showing."

_**. . .**_

Harry Potter's voice had broken.

Harry Potter had grown up.

Harry Potter had saved the day.

And now Harry Potter was hot and sweaty.

"_Let us hope that Mr. Potter will always be around to save the day."_

"_Don't worry. I will be."_

_**.**_

_**.**_

_**.**_

Edward who?

_**. . .**_

Up Next..._ Chapter Fourteen: The First Time They Broke Up_


	17. The First Time They Broke Up

**An Introduction to Swirl and Daisy: The Non-Romantic Romance**

Disclaimer: Any Twilight characters that may appear in this story belong to Stephenie Meyer. The remainder is my original work. No reproduction is allowed without my written consent.

_Chapter Fourteen: The First Time They Broke Up_

_**. . .**_

_February 7, 2003_

_Love, life, meaning… over._

_**. . .**_

My guilt abundacized (was that a word?) as I held Edward's hand during the midnight showing of _The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers_. Just under a month ago I had sat in this very theater and ogled Harry Potter.

Was it cheating to simply look at another man? Admiring a few pictures of Daniel Radcliffe (or Dan, as he liked to be called) didn't hurt anyone, right? And learning a little about him was harmless too. Knowledge was power, after all. Like, knowing his middle name was Jacob could come in handy someday... And his birthday was July 23, 1989. And he was 5'3" inches tall. And he had two Border Terriers named Binka and Nugget and his favorite colors were blue and yellow… and his favorite soda was Diet Coke. It was all very essential.

Edward drew my attention back to the movie by gripping my hand tighter. Ah, yes, Arwen was on screen now. I took a sip of Diet Coke (my new favorite soda). What did Edward see in her? The countless sketches in Edward's notebook of my face with pointy ears and Arwen's body had soured me to the character. Perhaps it wasn't healthy that tonight I had indulged his little fantasy by donning the Arwen-replica dress he'd given me for my birthday (which, I was beginning to realize, was more a present for himself).

When I'd first tried it on, the neckline of the dress revealed some newfound cleavage. I had boobs; who knew? Mrs. Cullen had made a few alterations for my modesty's sake, and then did my hair in elegant waves, with half of it pulled back into an Elven twist. Spending that time with Mrs. Cullen had made me miss my mother, but when Edward saw me in Arwen-costume I knew that moving to Forks had been the best decision of my life.

He looked incredibly handsome, standing at the bottom of the stairs with my Evenstar around his neck. It felt like there was no one else in the room when I looked at him. His eyes revealed his every emotion at my appearance. He didn't say anything, just sweetly lifted a hand to my face and brushed it against my cheek. "Thank you," he'd mouthed to his mother.

Mostly, I was overjoyed that I could make him happy this way. But that little two-percent nagged in the back of my mind, saying I shouldn't have to dress up as another woman to inspire such a reaction.

That resentfulness increased tenfold as, on-screen, Aragorn declared he was leaving Arwen. As stupid as it sounded, I equated Arwen and Aragorn's relationship to my own relationship with Edward. My heart felt as though it would beat right out of my chest when he reached out his hand to return her Evenstar.

"_You have a chance for another life_," Aragorn said in Elven.

"_Why are you saying this_?" she asked, heartbroken.

"_I am a mortal, you are Elf-kind. It was a dream, Arwen_. _Nothing more._"

Edward leaned over, my Evenstar dangling freely from his neck, and placed a feather-light kiss on my cheek. "It's all right. I promise they end up together, like they are meant to be," he whispered.

Their love had been infallible and perfect, but Aragorn had left Arwen over something as stupid as mortality. What would Edward do if we were in the same situation? I shook the thought away and tried to focus back on the movie, but the question remained – was Edward capable of leaving me?

And who the hell was this Eowyn bitch?

_**. . .**_

With the perplexing exception of _Lord of the Rings_, Edward always had a way of making something I disliked magical. I had never understood the appeal of snow. It was wet and cold. Sure, it was drier than rain – until it melted in your socks. But, looking out my window on Christmas morning, an uncontrollable smile played across my lips at the two freshly built snowmen on my front lawn.

My beautiful boyfriend, unaware of my attention, was putting on their finishing touches – pointy ears for the Arwen snowman and a rugged twig-beard to make Aragorn look manlier. My favorite part was the way Aragorn's stick-fingers tangled with Arwen's; they were holding hands. Edward tripped on an extra stick he had lying on the ground (what I assume was going to be Aragorn's sword) and face-planted into the snow.

I couldn't suppress my giggle and opened the window to reveal myself, not caring how frigid the air was. "What do you get if you cross a snowman and a shark?"

Edward looked up and smiled brightly at me, his newly wet hair glistening in the morning light. "It depends on how bad the joke is. And I happen to know that it's a _really_ bad joke."

"Oh, yeah? And how would you know that?"

There was a glint of humor in his eyes. "Because it's _my_ joke."

"No it isn't! Charlie told me it last Christmas break when I slipped on a piece of ice and hurt my wrist. He thought it'd make me laugh."

"That's most likely true," he conceded. "What Chief Swan did not tell you was that I had told him the same joke a few weeks prior when John Marsden got a citation for throwing snowballs at the police cruiser."

"Huh." A sudden wave of agitation came over me as I realized how out of the loop I was when it came to the Edward and my father.

Probably knowing where my mind had wondered, Edward said, "You owe me a kiss."

"Hardly. I appreciate the effort, but really, Arwen is a bit too stocky in the hips for me to be impressed," I said, shaking off the bitterness with sarcasm.

He raised his arm above his head, and I bit my lip at the sight of mistletoe. It was impossible to stay upset when he did cute things like this. The police department debacle didn't matter, nor the fact I was only wearing pajamas, as I ran down the stairs and out the front door (only stopping to throw on my snow boots because, really, I wasn't _that_ stupid). I flew into Edward's waiting arms and all but tackled him, planting a deep, passionate kiss on his lips. He slipped his cold hands underneath the hem of my shirt and began to trace the small of my back. I shuddered, not from the cold, but by the feelings this small movement stirred in the pit of my stomach.

Edward tried to pull back, but I couldn't allow that. I leaned forward with him, still trying to keep our lips together. The movement was too sudden, though, and I felt my feet fly out from underneath me as he fell backwards into the snow. Edward subsequently crashed into and destroyed the Aragorn snowman in an effort to keep me from landing in the snow. I landed on top off him with a manly grunt.

I groaned a little, climbing off him. "I'm so sorry."

"Wait a second," Edward said. I halted my movements. He swept a piece of wild hair behind my shoulder to see my face better. His eyes swam with affection and I almost had to look away from the intensity I saw there._ Tell me you love me. Tell me you love me. Please, just tell me you love me. _I chanted in my head over and over. He opened his mouth. I was finally going to hear the words. "_Amin mela lle_."

I stared at him for one prolonged moment before huffing and rolling off him. I'd had enough of this. He _knew_ I didn't speak Elven. Goodness knows, I'd tried over the last year; even taken a trip to Forks Public Library to see if they carried an Elven-English dictionary. Of course no such thing existed and Edward refused to translate for me. For all I knew he could be saying I had morning breath (he probably wasn't).

He hadn't moved from the ground. I swept some snow off my pajama bottoms, then glanced down at him. He was looking at me oddly – as if I had actually hurt his feelings by being annoyed. "What?" I crossed my arms defensively. He just shook his head and rearranged his features into a small, tight smile. "Come on. Let's go get warm," I said, putting my minor irritation aside and grabbing his cold hand.

We passed Charlie at the stairs on the way up to my room. He didn't look surprised to find Edward in his house at seven AM Christmas morning. He said, "Leave the door open," and continued to the kitchen. At least there were a few perks to Charlie and Edward's bizarre relationship.

Edward hadn't been in my bedroom for a while. Mostly we hung out at his house since there was better equipment to work on MyT-Spot there. Lack of parental prying was also a benefit. He peeled off his jacket and set it on the rocking chair in the corner. I didn't miss his smile at the dozens of pictures of us on display. Pictures were framed on my dresser, pinned up on a cork board, and taped to my vanity mirror.

"Wow. I'm flattered," he teased.

I liked to look at my boyfriend – who could blame me? "I'm going to run to the bathroom and change into some dry clothes," I said, grabbing a pair of jeans and my _I Love Orc-Meat_ t-shirt from the dresser. "Don't touch anything," I added, worried he might discover my diary (he wouldn't look under my mattress – right?).

"Is it all right if I check movie times? I thought we might catch a showing of _The Two Towers_ tomorrow," he asked, walking over to the decrepit looking computer.

Thankfully my back was turned to him so he couldn't see the look of annoyance on my face. One of these days I was going to put my foot down. No way was I sitting through _The Two Towers_ seventeen times in theater like I had for _Fellowship_. "Sure," I said, letting it go and hastily walking to the bathroom. This was Christmas and since I didn't volunteer at the homeless shelter, going to see LotR with Edward was the closest thing to holiday charity I would get.

Having not bothered to so much as run a brush through my hair before jumping Edward outside, I was absolutely horrified at what I found in the bathroom mirror. I was more convinced that, "_Amin mela lle_," meant, "Brush your teeth," now than ever before. I quickly did my morning rituals, not wanting to leave Edward alone in my bedroom for too long but also hoping to remind him that I wasn't completely hideous. After I was done, I took one last look in the mirror, and decided that he'd have to deal with a lot worse if we ever got married and that he should get used to it now.

I knew there was something massively wrong before I even entered the room. The energy had completely shifted around Edward. He sat rigid in my desk chair, staring at the computer screen with heated eyes. At the sound of my footsteps he looked up. Even though I had no idea what had happened to make him look at me like this, I felt a guilty pang in my chest.

"So I, uh, guess there aren't any good movie times?" I asked.

His face took on a calculated look. He stood and glanced from me to my computer, indicating that he wanted me to look at the screen. I paused, not sure I _wanted_ to know what it was that could make Edward this angry. I took a deep breath and walked to the screen. It took less than a second for me to realize which webpage he had found, and my heart sank to the pit of my stomach.

Mugglenet. com. The biggest _Harry Potter_ fansite in the world was opened on my computer. And Edward had seen it. I was so busted.

"I, uh, I-I can explain that." My cheeks grew red as I searched for any possible explanation. He looked at me in that this-better-be-good kind of way. "I was actually researching some possible designs for MyT-Spot," I said. Edward wasn't going to like that response very much, but it was better than telling him the truth.

Edward quirked an eyebrow just enough to tell me that he didn't believe me. He bent over the keyboard, pressed a few keys, and then stood back up expectantly.

The-Leaky-Cauldron. org. "Cross-referencing. Thorough research," I said.

Jaw clenched, he once more bent down to type on the keyboard, this time stepping back and walking to the other side of the room.

DanRadcliffe. com._ I am so fucked_ (mental wrist-slap).

"So tell me, Isabella." I cringed at the use of my entire name. "When were you planning on informing me that you were going to single-handedly change my entire product line and start selling _Harry Potter_ t-shirts on my website?"

Anger flared up inside me. "_Your_ website? Are you kidding me? Yeah, maybe it was your idea, but it's also _my_ website now. I work as hard on it as you do."

Edward kept his hard expression but must have realized he was in lethal territory because he changed tactics. "Do you make a habit of putting the website of random actors on your favorites list, or is this something you only recently developed?" He didn't give me the chance to answer. "I mean, I'd really like to know if you've been looking at other men during the entire course of our relationship or if you've simply gotten bored with me in the last few months."

My mouth popped open. "You can't be serious."

"Do you find him attractive?" he asked in an emotionless voice.

"No," I lied automatically.

His eyes blazed, before he turned away and began playing with the tassel from one of my window curtains. "So you're telling me that if I were dead, you wouldn't consider him remotely good-looking."

My throat constricted. A deep chill settled in my bones. "If you died, I wouldn't exist anymore. I can't even think about that." I felt suffocated staring at the back of his head.

"Fine. Pretend that we'd never met. You never came to Forks."

It felt as if the air had been knocked out of me. Pretend as if we had never met? My life _began_ when we met. "What is your—"

"I won't be mad." He turned to look at me. His fingers relentlessly fidgeted with my curtains. It was his eyes that bothered me the most. He actually believed he wouldn't be upset if I told him I found another guy attractive, or maybe he didn't think I'd ever say yes. "Honestly, Bella. I won't be mad."

I was growing more and more agitated with this conversation. Why should I have to hide this from him? He was open about his whole Arwen fetish with me. And he said he wouldn't be mad. Sure, Edward was a serial liar, but he couldn't hold this against me. It was his own fault if he didn't like my answer.

"All right. I don't find Daniel Radcliffe to be completely unfortunate looking."

With Edward's back to me I couldn't see the look on his face, but the silence was so deep that the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. I had just made the biggest mistake of my life.

I should have lied.

Damnit.

_**. . .**_

We never did go see _The Two Towers_ on December 26th. As far as I could tell, I might never have to watch another _LotR_ movie again. I'd expected Edward to be pissed when he found out about _Harry Potter_, but not that he'd to avoid me for days after. He answered my calls but barely spoke. He didn't come to see me or invite me over. I was trying to be patient and let him work through whatever he was feeling, but it was beginning to wear on my nerves.

I missed him to the point of psychological delusions. One time I looked out my window and saw him lurking in the forest across the street, but when I did a double-take he was gone. A good fifteen minute self-berating followed for being so ridiculously pitiful as to imagine my boyfriend stalking me. Or maybe I was desperate for any sign that he missed me as much as I missed him.

But if space is what he needed to get over this, then I would give that to him. Which is why I found myself sitting with my father on our living room couch, picking at pizza and watching the countdown to the ball dropping in Times Square on New Year's Eve. Charlie had tried to make it special, buying silly cone hats and sparkling silver noisemakers to celebrate the occasion.

As lame as it was, the glorious image of Charlie in a shiny blue cone hat with a purple feather rim and a sparkly pink ball topper would stay close to my heart for the rest of my life. "You and Edward seemed a little tense the other day," he said – his twentieth attempt to start a conversation.

"Yep," was the answer I gave him – my twentieth attempt to prevent just that from happening. It was always better when he didn't try to understand my female emotions on a deeper level. I took a bite of pizza and we both pretended to be interested in Dick Clark's commentary on the celebrated event.

"Why?"

That was a surprise. Charlie being observant was one thing, but being inquisitive about my romantic life was another. "What do you mean?" I asked, sure that I had misunderstood him.

Charlie kept his eyes trained on the TV. "I was just wondering if you and him were having any problems."

My first instinct was to scoff indignantly and tell him to mind his own business. But then, Charlie was a man. An old man, granted, but he might still remember what it was like to be young. Maybe he could give me some perspective on how to handle Edward. "I'm not sure. Maybe. It's confusing."

"So, it's complicated? These things often are," Charlie said.

"Well, yeah. You see, I really like _Harry Potter_ and Edward hates it." Woah. When I said it out loud it sounded farcically absurd.

"That's it?" His disbelief reflected the farcical absurdity of it all.

"I guess there's the fact that I kind of find the actor in _Harry Potter_ really hot," I said, after a moment of contemplation.

Charlie nodded and turned back to the TV. "So he's jealous. I can understand that."

My mind briefly flashed back to a moment I'd witnessed when I was a child of my father seeing my mom and Phil together after the divorce. "So, what should I do?"

"You have to talk about it."

"Oh." His answer was so simple… and not good at all. Talking had gotten me into this mess.

"But sometimes talking isn't enough. It's important to _communicate_ with each other. Words mean nothing if he doesn't understand what you're saying," Charlie said.

That was a shockingly wise thing he had said. "But what if he won't listen? He's hardly talking to me right now."

Charlie gave me an expression of determination I had never seen on his face before, and as he spoke, I felt as if there was a wisdom behind his words that he could have only obtained through personal experience. "Then you have to make him, Bella. If you really like this boy, you will _make_ him understand your feelings for him."

I broke eye contact with Charlie to look down at my hands. It was too intense for me, realizing that my father wished he had been able to make my mother understand his feelings for her. I grew suddenly angry at her for leaving him. And in turn, I felt anger toward Edward for pulling away from me. I wouldn't let this happen – I was going to demand to know what his problem was and we would work it out. _Now_.

"Okay, let's go," I said, standing up from the couch.

"Go where? It's eleven-fifteen at night, Bells. I don't think any place is open for people under the age of twenty-one."

"I don't want to go partying; I need a ride to the Cullens'. I need to talk to Edward now, before it gets any worse."

Charlie debated whether to let me follow his advice now or make me wait until a decent hour of the morning. "Are you sure they'll be awake?" he asked after twenty-three seconds.

_I love my father._ "Yes, I'm positive," I said, practically squealing over him agreeing to something so uncharacteristic. I was beginning to like this whole father/daughter bonding thing.

"All right. Let's do it," he said, standing up.

Twelve minutes later I was ringing the doorbell to the Cullen's residence. I barely said a quick, "I need to talk to Edward," before zooming past Dr. Cullen (only stopping to inconspicuously check out how he looked in his pajama pants and a MyT-Spot _LotR_ t-shirt) and up the stairs. I knocked on Edward's bedroom door, more determined than ever to demand what his problem was. However, when the door opened to Edward's room he didn't look like he had a problem.

Edward immediately pulled me into his arms. "Bella, you're here. I missed you," he said into my hair.

I pulled back from his embrace, and tilted my head to the side. My expression reflected the stem of suspicion I felt at his enthused expression. His mood swings were giving me whiplash and for a brief moment, I contemplated the prospect that Edward was actually able to experience PMS. Was that possible for men? I shook the thought away and refocused on the purpose of my visit. "Yes, well, I think it's important that we talk."

He nodded, his smile faltering a little, and stepped aside to let me into his room. At the sound of the door closing, I began the speech I'd composed during the car ride over. "I'm not sure what's going on but I think it's important to talk. Not just talk, but communicate." Edward was looking at me intently, hanging on my every word. But there was more than that in his expression. Something expectant, as if he were biding his time, waiting for something to happen. Though slightly fazed by the oddity, I continued. "So, I would like to say that it's important to appreciate and respect our different interests. In fact, we should appreciate that we're—"

I froze as something above Edward's shoulder caught my attention. My eyes narrowed. Edward Anthony Cullen would die a long, torturous death for what he had done. The new addition to his room was an outrage – a horror constructed with the sole purpose to get back at me. And I was pissed.

Right in the middle of the wall next to his door, Edward _f-word_ Cullen had mounted a new shelf, one that was filled with all the Audrey Hepburn movies he had previously kept hidden underneath his bed. And there were other things on the shelf – a coffee mug with her face on it, a large published book with pictures of her, and… was that an Audrey Hepburn _Barbie doll_?

The subtle smirk that rested on Edward's lips confirmed what I suspected: that he had done this intentionally and I was reacting exactly the way he desired. I wanted so much to ignore the atrocity mounted on his wall – to not give Edward the satisfaction of knowing he had gotten to me. But my mouth had always seemed disconnected from my brain. "What the _hell_ is _that_?"

He turned around to peek at the monstrosity, as if he had no idea what I was talking about – as if he hadn't put it up there to purposefully drive me crazy. "Oh that? I thought it was time to do some redecorating."

My mouth opened and closed a few times. "Redecorating," I repeated blandly, trying to keep the extreme emotion I was feeling in check. The boy standing in front of me, the one whose eyes were dancing with the high of successful revenge, held no resemblance to the perfect, sweet boy I had fallen in love with over the past year. I didn't know who this boy was – he wasn't my Edward, my Swirl.

He opened his mouth and hesitated, seeming to contemplate whether he would say what he wanted. His gaze hardened. "I guess that you could say that if you were dead I wouldn't find Audrey Hepburn to be _unfortunate looking_."

My face stung where Edward's imaginary hand had slapped it. Sadness, hurt, disappointment, heartbreak. But mostly I felt anger. A rage so volatile flooded my body that I felt my cheeks redden deeply and my heart pound furiously. "Oh, yeah? Well, it might help if she wasn't dead either." I turned on my heel and took a step toward the door.

He grabbed my wrist to stop me from leaving. I turned back to yell for him let me go, but when I did he had changed again. He was _my_ Edward now, his eyes pleading instead of vengeful and his face contorted in remorse. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have said that," he said urgently.

I averted my eyes and bit my tongue to keep myself from giving him my verbal forgiveness. There was something about the sincerely pitiful expression that he always got on his face when he had done something wrong that made me feel obligated to release him from his guilt. "I can't continue to do this," I muttered to myself.

"Bella, please." The two words were simple but the emotion behind his plea was raw. I knew exactly what he was asking me; I knew he couldn't be parted with me any more than I could be parted with him. We stood there, both immersed in our thoughts until startled by the sound of Edward's watch. He released my wrist to silence the alarm.

"It's midnight," he said. Midnight. A new year. A new start.

We looked at each other, not in anger, but rather how we used to when we first met. For a brief moment I was transported to a Yearbook class at Forks Middle School where a girl had met a boy. To a time when everything was simple and that girl knew that she had just found the boy she was going to spend the rest of her life with.

_We stared at each other for a few moments, I'm sure my own eyes reflected the same bewilderment as his. I would say that I fell in love with him in those brief seconds. But adults were adamant that young people couldn't fall in love – I didn't know if I believed them._

A small smile flitted across my lips as I recalled that particular thought. Adults were so stupid. The love I had felt then was the purest I could remember – so new and fresh, without any trials or teenage angst to complicate it. I _had_ fallen in love. I remembered Edward as the shy boy who hardly ever spoke, choosing instead to communicate with me through instant messages and subtle glances. He had changed so much since then, opened up to me in ways he had never done with anyone else.

Edward gripped my hand and I knew that boy was still there. We _would_ find a way to make this work.

And at this new determination, a hunger came over me that I had never felt so strongly – a hunger to have his lips on mine and to taste what I was now fighting to preserve. The kiss began much the same as usual but then something changed. Suddenly his lips became more urgent, his free hand twisting in my hair and holding my face securely to his.

There was nothing to think about – only his lips and my body's reaction to them. As usual, my heart thudded wildly. Then something unknown tightened in the pit of my stomach. When our lips finally unlatched, we didn't pull away; his forehead rested on mine.

My eyes closed to savor the feeling of his quick breaths softly brushing my cheeks, almost as if we were one – as if his breaths were mine. I drank it in. This is what I was fighting for.

I only had one request. "Just… can you please just take down the Barbie doll?"

He pulled away, a small frown creasing his face. "That is not a _Barbie_. It's a rare collector's item."

"Oh, please. The movies I can deal with, but my boyfriend cannot have more dolls than I do. It goes against nature."

He sighed. "I guess that's a fair point." And with that, we reached our understanding.

**. . .**

School resumed a week later, and with it returned the misery of Musical Theater and the promise of auditions for the casting of _Cinderella_.

Alice f-word Brandon seemed more determined than ever to win the lead role. At first, I figured she just wanted to be the center of attention as always. However, I soon discovered that Mr. Harding's seventh period Wood Shop class would be building all the sets for the production. It so happened that a certain Jasper Whitlock was in that class. The stakes were higher because of it, and Alice would be fighting tooth and nail for the chance to show off for Jasper, and in turn, win his affection (which I assumed was her plan). I would have been more than happy to step aside and let her have the damn role if it didn't mean she'd be dancing with, touching, and kissing my boyfriend.

In order to prepare for our auditions and the play, Mrs. McCrae made us watch Roger and Hammerstein's _Cinderella_. It wasn't as horrible as I had originally thought, and as I watched Cinderella float down the giant staircase to the prince, I imagined the look on Edward's face if I were wearing a beautiful ballroom dress and walking towards him. The prince sang to her:

"_Ten minutes ago I saw you  
I looked up when you walked through the door.  
My head started reeling,  
You gave me the feeling  
The room had no ceiling or floor."_

Edward leaned over in the darkness of the unlit classroom and whispered in my ear, "That's how I felt when I first met you."

I recalled our first meeting again, as I so often did these days. "Me too."

"You asked me if I was gay," he stated dryly.

"Complains the boy who keeps an Audrey Hepburn Barbie doll under his bed."

Edward's face tightened. "I repeat, it is _not_ a Barbie. It is a—"

"Rare collector's item," I finished for him with a wide grin. This playful banter had become the easiest way to cope with what I now affectionately referred to as "Edward's Slutty Shrine of Horror." Deep down, I was still slightly hurt and severely jealous that he had something of another woman up in his room. But at least she was dead. And it was much better than Arwen.

Without outright saying it, I was showing him that if he could be respectful of my interest in _Harry Potter_, then I could respect his other… hobbies.

Angela was very encouraging of this tactic, repeatedly telling me that she was proud of me for being an individual. "Relationships aren't about being the same. They're about having different interests and being able to complement each other at the same time," she said one day while sitting at my kitchen table. "As a matter of fact, you should take this further. Try to get him involved in your interests."

"Uh, I'm not sure about that," I said, chopping up an onion to put in the taco salad I was preparing for dinner.

Angela crinkled her nose as she watched me. "Ew. Who puts onions in taco salad?"

"I do and it's delicious."

"Nope. Onions are good in a lot of things, like potato salad, but are a big no-no in taco salad."

"_Relationships aren't about being the same_," I mocked in a horribly high-pitched imitation of Angela's voice.

"Touché," she said. "And because I love you I will try your wretched taco salad. You should make Edward do the same."

"Fine, I'll bring him some for lunch tomorrow," I said, avoiding the entire point of her sentence.

"You know what I mean. Think about it."

I did think about it. As a matter of fact, I thought about it very hard for the next few weeks. I hadn't brought up anything _Harry Potter_ related to Edward since our argument on Christmas Day, choosing instead to indulge my new obsession with Angela. Her choice of poison was Draco Malfoy.

It was the beginning of February when I decided it was time to ease Edward into my love for _Harry Potter_. I started slowly by putting a small HP poster in my locker before school. I was all nerves during our first passing period, knowing that Edward would see it for the first time.

He was chatting happily about something that I wasn't paying attention to (because of the nerves) and abruptly stopped when I opened the locker door. Not wanting to know whether he looked pissed or hurt, I gave him a chance to rearrange his features into a passive expression. He hardly spoke to me for the rest of the day, but I convinced myself he needed time before he could give me the same courtesy of respecting my interest as I provided him.

Edward seemed to recover without permanent damage, so on the sixth of February, three days later, I decided to take "Project Team HP" to the next level. I could have planned it better because instead of being a nervous wreck over the _Cinderella_ audition that was later today, I was a nervous wreck over asking Edward if he wanted to watch _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone_ with me after school tomorrow.

I was going to do it during lunch since I'd have Angela there for moral support. She kept nodding at me encouragingly whenever I got close to the topic and finally resorted to kicking me in the shin when we only had three minutes before lunch was over.

"So, Edward," I said, trying to sound composed.

"Hmm?" He took a bite of his peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I'd never understand how anyone could layer creamy peanut butter on a sandwich like Edward did. It was horrible. In my opinion, crunchy was the only way to go.

Another kick in the shin from Angela and I blurted out, "Wouldyouliketowatch_HarryPotter_withmetomorrow?"

Edward stopped chewing immediately, then swallowed thickly. He picked up his Coke and took a long swig from it. I don't know how, but he'd picked out the keywords in my jumbled sentence. I exchanged a nervous look with Angela as he finally put the Coke down. He pursed his lips, deeply contemplating my request. After what felt like a long time, he gave a short nod of his head, muttered a, "sure," stood up, dumped his trash, and walked out of the cafeteria.

I sat there stunned for a few moments.

"Well, it could have gone worse," Angela said.

"How?"

"He could have said no." As if that fact alone was supposed to comfort me.

I entered the Musical Theater class in trepidation that afternoon, timidly taking my seat next to Edward. My mind should have been on the audition I would be doing in just a few minutes, but I couldn't stop thinking about what was going to happen tomorrow.

Who knew? Maybe Edward would end up liking _Harry Potter_.

_**. . .**_

Yeah, right. Edward didn't make it through two minutes of _The Sorcerer's Stone_ without commenting on how Dumbledore was clearly a less polished knock off of Gandalf. It only went downhill from there. He'd comment on stupid things; apparently _HP_ copied _LotR_ in that the trolls were too similar, the forests too alike, and Fred and George Weasley acted too much like Merry and Pippin.

He wasn't even trying to try and it was bugging the hell out of me. At one point, he had the nerve to reach over and grasp my hand. I yanked it back and crossed my arms, sitting stiffly like that for the duration of the movie (in which he managed to find at least fifteen more miniscule similarities between _HP_ and _LotR_).

After it was over, he sat there arrogantly tapping his fingers on the arm of the couch, as if he'd been proven right about all of his preconceived assumptions.

I finally snapped. "Just say it."

He gave me a sympathetic smile. "I'm sorry. I honestly don't get it."

"You didn't even try to get it. You were too busy pointing out everything you thought was wrong with the movie."

"That is not true." Yes, it was. "I don't understand what you see in this Harry Potter guy. He's a scrawny kid who gets lucky a lot."

"Dan is not scrawny!"

Edward's head jerked back. "Oh, so you're on a first name basis with Mr. Radcliffe now. How sweet."

At that point, I was ready to smack the you-know-what out of him. He was being such a jerk! I tried for him. Why couldn't he try for me? I threw a pillow at him, slammed the movie room door behind me, and stomped up the stairs to his bedroom to work on MyT-Spot stuff.

But when I opened the door…

_Her_.

It was _her_ on his wall.

Life-sized. Framed. Right over his bed.

The one woman I could never compete with. The one woman I could never live up to._ Arwen fucking __Undómiel__._

My heart cracked in two, as a tear slid down my cheek. I approached the poster, the knowledge weighing in on me that this stupid fictional bitch was closer to Edward's bed than I had ever been. The asshole in question walked into the room a few moments later.

I wiped the tear from my cheek and whipped around to face him. "You know what I don't understand? You're stupid obsession with _Lord of the Rings_. I mean, really, they're poorly written books with un-fascinating story lines and boring characters."

His hand flew to his chest, appalled. "_Lord of the Rings_ happens to be the best piece of literature ever written. Tolkien is a genius. Not only did he create _amazing_ characters, but he gave them all different languages, lineages, histo—"

"It's called not being able to edit yourself. Seriously, what kind of _nerd_," I spat the word, "finds all that crap interesting? I practically fell asleep when he was going into every inch of detail about the stupid forest. 'There were trees and the trees had leaves and bark and they sang and spoke to each other and all was merry.'"

"Oh, so you're calling me a nerd because I find that interesting?"

"Maybe I am." I was not backing down from this one.

His face hardened. "Well I'd rather be a nerd, than an ignorant reader who can't recognize good literature when it's right in front of them."

"So you're calling me ignorant?"

"Maybe I am," he repeated.

I hastily dug into my backpack and pulled out the copy of _The Fellowship of the Ring_ I'd been carrying around for ages. "You're saying that I'm the one who is ignorant, and yet I at least tried to read that piece of rubbish to understand why you loved it so much." I chucked the book so it landed at his feet. "I went and saw that damn movie seventeen times in theaters. Just to humor you, I did it. For goodness sakes, those movies are tiresome, boring and dull. I _tried_, unlike you who forms moronic opinions about something because it's competition with the thing you like. I would say that _you_ are the ignorant person."

"And how do you think that makes me feel?" Edward asked. "To hear that you don't like _Lord of the Rings_ now? You are always going on about what I liar I am, and yet you've been lying since our first date!"

"Oh, right, that really compares to not telling me about working with my father for over a year," I shot back. "And I did it for you! How do you think it makes _me_ feel that I have to dress up in a shitty Arwen dress in order for you to think I'm attractive?"

"What do you mean? I think you are beautiful no matter what you're wearing."

"Really?" I asked with raised eyebrows. I uncrossed my arms and walked over to his computer desk. Opening the drawer, I found his sketchbook and flipped the cover so he could see the pages. "Let's see. Hmmm… here's Bella as Arwen, and another, and another. Ah, and here's a wonderful rendition of my profile with superb detailing on my pointy ears." I continued to flip pages. "An entire book of you wishing I was someone else, but no, you like me _just as I am_."

He didn't seem to have a defense ready and that enraged me even more. "You aren't even going to try and argue it, are you?"

"What do you want me to say?" He shrugged. "Sure I have my… _fantasies_, but who doesn't? As I've told you repeatedly, I think you are beautiful. You're making a bigger deal out of this than you need to."

"Oh really?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, well how would you feel if I asked you to dress up like Harry Potter? Maybe that's a fantasy of mine." The image of Edward in an HP costume, complete with wand and broomstick was kind of hilarious. _Now that's one Firebolt I wouldn't mind riding_…

He looked at me in horror. "You wouldn't."

"Maybe I would."

"No, you wouldn't."

"Yes, I would."

"No, you wouldn't," he said adamantly.

"Well, at this rate I'm not really thinking you're going to get that opportunity."

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

"I'm just thinking that maybe I don't want to be with someone who wouldn't dress up for me and has horrible taste in books." The heat of the moment caught up with me then, but the words were already out and Edward was already responding.

"Fine. Maybe I don't want to be with someone who thinks that a commercially-driven book series is better than a masterpiece."

My nose flared. "Fine. Maybe I don't want to be with someone who rereads a tedious, stupid book series four times a year and is afraid to expand to anything else that isn't on the English reading list, and then decides to dress up as a _hobbit_ for the midnight showing."

"You know that was my mom's decision," he said in a dramatic whisper.

"Who cares, _Frodo_?"

"Take that back."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"No," I said, happy that the fight seemed to be going my way now. "And maybe, I don't want to be with someone who can't accept that I am an individual. That I have opinions of my own and interests that don't match up with his. And maybe I don't want to be with someone who spouts out Elvish all the time without the decency of trying to translate." _And is incapable of saying I love you_, I added in my mind.

"Fine!" he shouted back. "Maybe I don't want to be with someone who doesn't take the time to try and figure out what I'm saying to her."

"Fine. Maybe I don't want to be with someone who doesn't take the time to try and understand my interests."

"Fine. Maybe I don't want to be with someone who lies about her interests for over a year."

"Fine. Maybe I don't want to be with someone who has a secret relationship with my father for over a year."

"Fine," he said with finality.

"Fine," I yelled so I could have the last word. With that, I slammed the computer desk drawer shut, grabbed my backpack and walked to the door, shoving his wretched sketchbook in his arms as I passed him. I stopped in the doorway. "By the way, Liv Tyler looks fat in that poster." And I was gone.

_**. . .**_

My grand exit was slightly ruined by the fact that I had to ask Dr. Cullen for a ride home. Now that I was a single woman, however, I felt as if I could ogle him without guilt, so I took advantage of that from the passenger seat. Admittedly, most of this was to spite Edward and not actually about admiring his father's profile, but I still tried to enjoy it.

It didn't work. Now when I looked at him all I saw were bits of Edward.

As soon as I arrived home, I ran up into my bedroom and started tearing down every photo of Edward from my walls, my dresser, and my vanity mirror. Grabbing a box full of matches on the way, I flew down to the kitchen and threw the photos into the empty sink. I struck a match and held the flame above the pictures.

It wasn't until I caught a glimpse of Edward and I dancing that it hit me what had happened. We had broken up. A tear spilled down my cheek. And after the first I felt a second. And then a third.

The match extinguished itself, and I slid down the cabinets to the kitchen floor. I sobbed then. I sobbed for hours. I sobbed until Charlie came home to find me a disheveled mess on the floor, the unburnt pictures of Edward and I still in the kitchen sink.

He didn't say anything, just lifted me up from the floor and carried me to my bed. He placed me down carefully and kissed my forehead, mumbling something I couldn't bring myself to understand. I laid there for an infinite amount of time. It all seemed meaningless now. Charlie brought me a bowl of soup and a bottle of water that I ignored. When I felt the darkness of night fall over the room, I finally sat up.

I grabbed my diary and wrote the only thing I felt.

_February 7, 2003_

_Love, life, meaning… over._

**. . .**

**A/N**: Thank you so much to the lovely **xsecretxkeeperx** and **acciodanrad9** for being amazing betas and doing a rush beta job on this chapter. And also to **squalloogal** and **Zors **for pre-reading. Thank you so much for all your reviews for last chapter!

Up Next..._ C__hapter Fifteen: The First Time She Said I Love You_


	18. TFT She Told Him She Loved Him

**An Introduction to Swirl and Daisy: The Non-Romantic Romance**

Disclaimer: Any Twilight characters that may appear in this story belong to Stephenie Meyer. The remainder is my original work. No reproduction is allowed without my written consent.

**A/N**: Remember when you were fourteen and everything was the end of the world? Just saying. This chapter is dedicated to Just4ALE, for making me sound more intelligent on my resumes than I actually am.

_Chapter Fifteen: The First Time She Told Him She Loved Him_

_**. . .**_

The cliff beneath my feet was cold and sharp. I closed my eyes and imagined the feel of his hand in mine, his breath on my face, the sound of his voice.

At first it feels like time stops when you have nothing to live for. When the person you've given your heart to is ripped mercilessly from your life. Slowly it comes back to you — time hasn't stopped but it _is_ different. There is no more seconds, minutes, hours, days.

But rather seconds without him.

Minutes without him.

Hours without him.

Days without him.

I'd always been told time heals all wounds. That was a lie.

At first, I could get through the days because there was still a small flame of hope nestled in the deepest part of my heart. There was still a chance of reconciliation — a chance that he cared for me. But by the end of the fifth day without him, that flame had been extinguished.

I looked over the edge of the cliff. The ocean was one of the few reprieves in this world that held nothing of him — no memories or significance because we had never come here together. It seemed appropriate that I would perish into the depths of this abyss.

I closed my eyes and whispered, "I love you, Edward," into the wind. A small smile played on my lips as his remembered face appeared before my eyes.

And with that, I let myself fall.

Figuratively speaking, of course, because I'd never actually be stupid enough to jump off a cliff.

_**. . .**_

**Day One Without Him**

It could almost be a nightmare — the reality that I could no longer kiss him, hug him, touch him hadn't yet set in. The only thing that made it real was the pain. Even in my most terrifying dreams I had never felt a pain this deep — this excruciating. I couldn't move. I could barely breathe. And yet the tears would not stop.

_**. . .**_

**Day Two Without Him**

Two nights without sleep had begun to take its toll. Charlie was talking to me, but I was only capable of focusing on his hands and how they were wrong.

_His_ hands had been smooth and soft. His fingers were long enough that when they fully encased my hand, all I could feel was warmth. A warmth I would never feel again.

"…understand what you're feeling right now. Trust me, I've felt it myself. But the best way to feel better is to continue with your life. Continue with your routine — you can't let yourself dwell on the misery. It's no good for you," Charlie said. People had always told me I'd inherited his eyes, but looking into them now, I knew that had never been truer. When I finally worked up the energy to look in the mirror, I would find the same dullness reflected back at me that had been in his eyes for the past ten years.

The tears stopped and numbness settled over my heart. I didn't fight it. I allowed my body to absorb the cold apathy. It was the only way I could keep myself together — my own internal shield. My father had survived his heartbreak and I would survive mine.

I tried to fit back into my routine, just like Charlie had said. I didn't attempt anything too hard (like changing out of my pajamas), but I did go downstairs to watch baseball with him. When he brought out a tray of snacks for us, the shield I had crafted faced its first test and easily shattered.

A green apple sat on the tray.

To Charlie, the apple was a harmless fruit, but to me it was the color of _his_ eyes. I missed his eyes, like I missed his hands. Nothing could match the depth I always found there, as if it were a direct connection to his soul.

My lip quivered. Charlie looked worried, so I bolted up the stairs before he could say anything, muttering a quick, "I'll be in my room," as I went. I collapsed on my bed and tried to think of something else, _anything_ else.

Charlie came up a few minutes later with a bottle of water and half a sleeping pill. "Everything's going to be all right, Bells," was the last thing I heard. He pulled the covers over me and I fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

_**. . .**_

**Day Three Without Him**

The bright light filtering through my window curtains told me I had slept well into the afternoon. I didn't care. The only thing I could think about was how he had touched those curtains. With his hands.

I missed his hands.

"What do you mean you miss his hands?" Huh. I had vocalized my yearning aloud. Had my father been standing there when I'd spent a half hour remembering the perfection of his clavicle? A clavicle was important — it was the foundation of the neck.

His neck. His neck was one of my favorite things about him. Not too long, not too short. It was strong. My mother used to say you could tell the worth of a man by the strength of his—

"Bella?" Charlie was going to jump into PFM (Protective Father Mode) if I didn't explain and quickly. But how could I explain the utter devastation of my heart?

"He touched my curtains."

Charlie looked at me in that odd way before rolling his eyes and leaving the room. Ten minutes later, Angela appeared. "You weren't at school today and I was worried. Then your dad called."

"I'm sorry." Was it already Monday?

"Do — do you want to talk about it?"

I shook my head. No, I couldn't. To voice it out loud would be to admit that it was true, and I couldn't give up that small flicker of hope burning in my heart. It might have been foolish, but some part of me still believed I could fix this. I could fix _us_. She nodded her understanding and nudged me over. She was an amazing friend — I hadn't taken a shower in three days.

We lay there in quiet for a long time, staring up at the ceiling while I gathered the courage to voice the question on my mind. "How did he look?"

Angela didn't answer immediately and her hesitance put me on edge. I _wanted_ him to be hurting as badly as I was. The thought that he could be happy without me was too painful to contemplate — even more painful than the thought that he was suffering the same kind of misery I was. "He actually wasn't at school," she said.

My mind turned over all possible scenarios for his absence. Was he suffering or did he just want to avoid me? I had known, logically, that I couldn't pick up the phone and call to ask, but the _realization_ didn't hit me until right then. My entire body shook and I felt a small fissure slash through my chest.

Angela let me cry on her lap and promised she would stay as long as needed. This was completely impossible, of course, because we were only fourteen years old, and Angela couldn't convince her mother to let her break the no-sleepovers-on-school-nights rule. I was all right as she walked out the door. I had survived leaving him; I could survive Angela leaving me.

I stood against the doorway, even long after she had gone. "I'll see you tomorrow," she had said.

Maybe not tomorrow or the next day, but it was only a matter of time before Charlie made me go back to school. I decided that I _would_ see her tomorrow, on my own terms. At least this way I could prepare myself for facing reality — a reality that did not include a future for Edward and me.

_**. . .**_

**Day Four Without Him**

"Where's Edward at?" Alice asked loudly. We were walking down the hallway from the Musical Theater classroom to the school auditorium. "I'd think that such an attentive boyfriend would be here to take care of his sick girlfriend." Alice paused. "You are sick, aren't you? That's why you look so horrible, right?"

I heard the words but allowed the numbness to absorb the underhanded insult. I wouldn't give her the satisfaction of a response.

"Look, I get why you'd resent me," she continued, "but I'm sure you have nothing to worry about when I get the role of Cinderella. If Edward really loves you then it won't mean anything when he kisses me."

My eyes involuntarily sought out the only person who could reassure me that, even if he had to kiss her, it would mean nothing.

"Of course, Edward is a good actor. I'm sure he'll want to make it realistic." Empty. "I just don't want you to mistake good acting for the actual thing." The halls were empty. "He'll probably pretend it's you." The school was empty. "But then again, maybe not. I heard a rumor he dumped you." Empty of him. "And was worried you'd stalk him, which is why he hasn't shown up to school."

"You know what's sad, Alice?" I was surprised by the sound of my voice. "What's sad is that you've been trying for months to get Jasper's attention and you're not even a blip on his radar. I highly doubt a tiara and a pair of glass slippers are going to change that."

She grabbed my arm, pulling me to a stop in the middle of the hallway. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"Sure I do, _Frosh_." A small, victorious smile crept on my lips at her blush. "And you haven't got the role yet," I reminded her.

"Well, with you looking like this, I don't think it's going to be very hard." She spun to catch up with Jessica.

She wasn't wrong. If I didn't step up my game I would be screwed when Mrs. McCrae announced the cast on Friday. Part of me wondered if there was a point to trying anymore. After all, I had lost the prince and had no glass slipper to find my way back to him.

But then again, maybe if I was lucky, I could borrow Cinderella's.

_**. . .**_

**Day Five Without Him**

He was here.

Small sparks of electricity generated from where I felt him behind me. Goosebumps rose on my arms; my breathing shook and sped; the hairs on the back of my neck prickled. I turned around to face him for the first time since Friday, only to be greeted with the sight of his bronze hair retreating into the crowded cafeteria. The air rushed out of me, like I'd been kicked in the stomach but was too shocked to feel the pain.

"Are you okay? We have to pay now," Angela said, bringing my attention back to the fundraising table we were standing at. We paid and each received a root beer float from an incredibly happy cheerleader.

When Angela took a step toward the cafeteria, I hesitated. He was in there, and he obviously didn't want to see me. "Um, why don't you go ahead? Cynthia's probably wondering where we are, and I need my Algebra notes from my locker." Like the bestest best friend she was, Angela let my fib slide. I took off, root beer float in hand, to the deserted hallway where my locker was located, which was as good a location as any for a meltdown.

He had seen me and walked away. What had I expected? For him to suddenly decide he couldn't live without me? For me to run into his arms; for us both to mutter apologies and vows of love and devotion as we embraced? Yes, exactly. Then there was the prospect of cordial conversation and pseudo friendship. Could I handle only being his friend? Could I watch him kissing someone who wasn't me, touching her like he used to touch me?

Another piece of my heart broke away — my heart which housed the flame of hope. If it broke too far, the flame would die. I would die. I cradled my arms around my chest, as if to keep all of me intact, and leaned against the locker to release the pressure off my jelly legs.

"Are you all right?" I jumped. Mike Newton had crept up on me. "You look a little green. Maybe I should take you to the nurse?"

"No, really, I'm fine. Just lightheaded."

"Okay," he said, "but you should sit down. We still have ten minutes before class starts." The grooves of the locker jostled my back as I slid down to the ground. Mike joined me a few feet away. "And maybe you should drink some of that," he said, nodding towards my root beer float.

I sipped it and debated asking him to leave. I didn't like him very much after the — I avoided thinking the word "fight" because that would inevitably lead to memories of _him_ being bruised and bloody and hot as hell. Eh. At least Mike's presence would help me focus on… other things.

"So, what're you doing for Spring Break next month?" he asked.

"I don't know," I said, barely able to think about the next few hours without having a meltdown. Next month was… would it get better by then? A small part of me hoped it wouldn't; I wanted to suffer because the pain was the only thing I had to remind me it had existed.

"Yeah, mine is going to be pretty lame, too. I'll mostly be working at my parent's store. Have you heard of Newton's Outfitters? Well, my parents are shorthanded and looking for help so I'm stuck there. It's a store for…"

As Mike prattled on about his stupid store, my mind went to another store entirely. I had completely forgotten about MyT-Spot. It was my job, my livelihood, my ticket to college. So much time and energy had gone into its success, I couldn't stand by and let it fail miserably because of all this. How would we work that out? Would we draw up a contract, like a divorce settlement?

"Bella? Did you hear me? It's time to go to class." Without thinking, I reached up and grabbed Mike's offered hand. Not a good idea. It felt so wrong holding another boy's hand. There was no sparks, no electricity. I let go and stood on my own.

A pair of apple-green eyes penetrated mine as soon as I was upright. As if caught in Medusa's stare, I froze. It was amazing how seeing him, _Edward, _in person changed my feelings so completely. Suddenly, and perhaps irrationally, I did want him in my life, any way I could have him. "Hi," was my brilliant opener designed to convey that.

"Hello," he said. "How-how are you?" His voice was raspy instead of the velvet I had become accustomed to, but it was still distinctly his and it felt like home to hear.

"Okay. How're you?"

He shrugged and silence fell over us. He didn't make a move to leave and neither did I. Instead, I took the opportunity to size him up, and he seemed do the same. Who was suffering more? He looked like shit (thank God), but more than me? I didn't think so. He had the bags under his eyes, the sunken-in cheeks, the crumpled clothing, etcetera. But his hair looked great. That wasn't his fault; he'd have to shave it off to ruin it. Still, my frizzy mess of a ponytail took the prize.

"So," I said, mostly because I wanted to hear his voice again, "I was wondering about MyT-Spot and—" A loud sputtering noise cut me off. I'd clean forgotten Mike, who was now gawking at me with drips of root beer float down his shirt. I crinkled my nose in disgust. "Anyway, I was wondering what was going to happen to it now that we aren't…" Judging by the look on Edward's face, he was glad I couldn't say the word. "You're more than efficient at taking care of MyT-Spot's needs on a day to day basis, but sometimes it's a two person job and— Seriously, what's the issue, Mike?" It sounded like he was choking on something.

He glanced between me and Edward, who was glaring back murderously. "Well, Bella, I'd be more than happy to help you with your G-Spo—"

"That's enough," Edward growled.

Edward may not like him, but that was no reason to be so rude. "Thanks. I appreciate your offer," I said to Mike, trying to diffuse the situation, "But I'm sorry, MyT-Spot is a sensitive project between me and Edward, and occasionally his grandma."

"Bella, please… stop." Did Edward just tell me to shut up?

"Excuse me?"

He quickly backtracked. "I mean, you shouldn't apologize to this miscreant. As a matter of fact, it probably would be best if you stayed away from him altogether."

Beyond infuriated at his condescending tone, I said, "What business is it of yours who I decide to talk to? Last time I checked, you weren't a part of my life anymore."

Something akin to raw pain flashed across Edward's face. "You're right. I shouldn't care." His features hardened. "But I'm not going to stand by and let this… _pervert_ turn you into some sort of scarlet women."

Mike tried to intervene. I spoke louder. "You know what? Unlike you, at least Mike's trying to be nice to me. It's not your job to protect me; I can take care of myself."

Edward scoffed. "Clearly not. You're too naive to even realize when some asshole is making a pass at you." My anger was beginning to manifest physically — I was now gripping the red cup so tightly that tiny drops of root beer were spilling over. In the background, I heard the final bell for class ring and Mike run off after it. "Do me a favor. Call your mother and ask her what T-Spot rhymes with. Have a nice long chat. You need it." Edward threw his backpack over his shoulder and turned his back to me.

"And what is that supposed to mean?" I asked.

He took a step away without a response. That was my breaking point — being ignored in this state of rage was not good for my mental well being. I didn't think about what I was about to do, just clutched the root beer float tighter and dumped its contents over Edward's head.

He stood motionless, rooted to the spot. Maybe a small giggle escaped my lips as bits of melted ice cream dripped down the side of his face. Slowly, he circled around to face me. Edward didn't look as amused as I was.

As a matter of fact, he didn't seem to think it was funny at all. His deathly-serious expression made me laugh even harder. "Oops. Must have slipped." The bastard had broken my heart — I deserved a laugh at his expense.

"I don't think so, Ms. Swan." An alarmed jolt zapped through me, melting my smirk. Edward's gaze flickered past me towards the deep, male voice.

"How bad is it?" I whispered.

"The worst. Principal Benson," he answered.

So much for justifiable revenge.

_**. . .**_

Ms. Cope had procured a dish towel from the teacher's lounge to help Edward dry off, and I may have possibly checked him out as he did so. Broken up or not, he was still _fine_. Now we were seated next to each other outside the principal's office. The posture in which Edward sat was identical to mine — arms crossed with his body turned away.

Charlie and Dr. Cullen had been called into the office and we waited in stubborn silence for them to emerge. And we waited. And we waited some more.

"Damnit, what is taking so long?" Edward asked after we hit the one hour mark.

"Probably discussing the specifics of paper airplane making," I said, keeping my eyes trained on the exit sign above the hallway door. "I hear Dr. Cullen is quite the skilled craftsman."

He groaned. "Look. I get it — I lied. But so did you."

"I believe we covered that during our… argument." I still couldn't admit our break-up aloud.

Edward didn't respond and we fell back into silence. My eyes fluttering closed. His steady breathing was all I could hear, so I measured my breaths to match. His perfect scent permeated the air, slightly hidden by the sweetness of vanilla ice cream and root beer. In my haze, I could feel his heart beating beneath my palm.

"So what's the deal? Are you hanging with Newton now or something?" he asked, startling me from my reverie. I balled my hand into a fist.

"Why would you ask that?"

"The two of you looked… cozy."

My head rolled back to thud against the wall. "Cozy?" I repeated in disbelief.

Another moment passed before he replied, saying, "Honestly, I thought you'd wait a little longer before…" He left his sentence open, but the implication was clear.

A pang of anger revived itself. I turned to him, astonished that he had the nerve to say our relationship was meaningless to me when I was hurting so deeply. "Guess what? It's none of your business even if Mike and I were 'cozy.' You gave up the right to dictate anything in my life last Friday when you broke up with me."

"I did not break up with you! You broke up with me!"

"No, _you_ broke up with _me_!"

"No, I didn't!"

"Yes, you did!"

"No, I didn't!"

"Yes, you did!" I said. "You're just too blind to see what's right in front of your face."

"I'll have you know that my eyesight is twenty-twenty with correction!" he yelled back.

I was about to tell him to go to hell, but stopped when my eye caught a glimpse of something familiar and beautiful. Originally hidden behind the fabric of Edward's shirt, one of the buttons on his polo had come undone and now revealed my Evenstar.

Edward noticed my distraction and looked down. "You probably want this back," he murmured, unclasping the chain from around his neck and holding it out to me. This action hurt almost as much as the break-up itself, tangible proof that this was the end of us.

I shook my head, knowing that I was on the edge of losing it. "No, it was a gift." _And it would break me even more_.

"Bella, please." The sound of my name was another fatal crack in my heart. It wasn't my name itself, but the way he said it. His voice was gentle with a slight tinge of vulnerability. His eyes were as soft as his voice. "It wouldn't be fair to who-whomever," he choked on the word, "whomever it is that you end up with for me to keep this part of you."

My eyes fell to my Evenstar in his hand. It was difficult to breath. He had referenced a future where the two of us did not exist. He had told me I would end up with someone else. The cracks in my heart let in a gust of despair that violently swept my hopeful flame from existence. He had ended us.

Charlie and Dr. Cullen walked out of the principal's office. "We good to go?" I asked, wasting no time in waiting for his answer while I gathered my things. He looked at me and Edward with a peculiar expression but nodded in consent, before shaking the principal's hand.

I hoisted my backpack over my shoulder, then reached out to collect the necklace from Edward's palm. For the briefest of moments, our skin brushed and I felt that familiar shock of electricity. Both Edward and I let out a shuddering breath.

"Bye," I said. He didn't respond. I willed my legs to move forward, but there was still one thing I had to say. "What I meant when I gave this to you can't be returned. No amount of time will ever change that." I pushed the office door open and walked out of his life.

If this was my last goodbye, he needed to know that I had not given up on him, as he had given up on me.

_**. . .**_

A routine. Charlie had mentioned it, and he was a person who would know about broken hearts. I didn't want to live in a reality where Edward didn't want me, but if I was going to be stuck in this God-forsaken world, I'd have to figure it out. I started brainstorming some ideas for hobbies I could take up — maybe paper airplane making wasn't such a bad idea…

"I need to ask you something," Charlie said. I looked away from the passing scenery to my father. "Are you, uh," he paused, plainly uncomfortable.

He could be so dramatic sometimes. "Just spit it out."

"Bella, are you menstruating?"

"OH MY GOD!" My face flooded with mortification. "Is that any of your business?"

"Now, I don't like talking about this anymore than you do—"

"I doubt that."

"—but I'm trying to understand what possessed you to dump a root beer float on Edward's head."

"So you're blaming my period?"

"As your father, it's my duty to—"

"I bet you wish you had a son instead of me," I said, somewhat hysterical. "Someone you could watch baseball with and take fishing and not have to worry about the delicate nature of the female psyche with."

Charlie chuckled, and fury overshadowed my embarrassment. Did he think this was funny? "I already have one of those and he's every bit as dramatic as you are."

"So what? You have some sort of illegitimate child or something?"

"No, stupid. I'm talking about Edward."

"What are you saying?"

"It's just that, I'm fond of the kid." A twinge of pain shot through me at the thought of how close Charlie had gotten to Edward. I was _jealous_ of my father — of the fact that he'd get to still have a relationship with Edward while I was stuck on the sidelines. "You know, it'd be nice if you and Edward could work out whatever this thing is between the two of you. It would make life a lot easier on me and Dr. Cullen."

I looked out the window. "It doesn't work like that."

He reached one hand over and clumsily patted me on the back. "I know, Bells, but the two of you will figure it out." There was a brief pause before he added, "But seriously, if we need to get you anything to help regulate your mood-swings or your cycle—"

"Stop!" I shouted.

"Now, Dr. Cullen isn't the only—"

"No, I mean STOP. Pull over!"

"Pull over where, Bella? I'm not letting you walk home just 'cause you're uncomfort—"

"Right here, into the Newton's Outfitters' parking lot."

My father looked at me in bewilderment but did as I demanded anyway. "What the hell are you going on about?"

"I need a job," I said, unstrapping my seat belt. "Something to keep my mind off Edward — a routine." He looked surprised and uncertain, but I didn't stick around for a lecture. I ran into the store and was greeted by a nice, round-faced woman who could only be Mike's mother. "Are you Mrs. Newton?"

"Why, yes I am. How can I help you?"

I tried to sound as cheerful as her. "Mike mentioned you were looking for help over Spring Break and I was wondering if I could apply?"

"Sure you can." She walked to the other side of the counter. "Let me get you the application."

"Do you mind if I fill it out here?" I needed to get it done before I chickened out.

"Sure thing." She pulled a pen from one of the drawers. "Why don't you come around here to do it? You can sit in the stool, then." I offered her a smile for her generosity and followed her to the other side of the counter. "Just watch out for the cord to the register. We haven't got it taped—"

It was already too late. As only I could do, my ankle looped around the cord, and I hit the ground hard. I wasn't able to get my hands out fast enough. My entire side was throbbing, but it was nothing compared to what came next.

I let out a deafening howl as the heavy metal cash register landed on my calf with a sickening crack. There was pain and there was screaming and there was tears. And there was Edward. For the breaking of my leg still hurt less than the breaking of my heart.

_**. . .**_

**Day Six Without Him**

An earthquake shook the room. I was going to die. Yet, I didn't care enough to wake up and run to safety.

"She'll be a little drowsy," I heard Charlie warn from some far away place. The Earth continued to tremble. Really, it seemed best to sleep through the end of my world. There'd be less pain that way. "Bella, wake up. Angela's on the phone."

I opened my eyes, looked at the alarm clock, and closed them again. "Is she worried about the apocalypse?"

"Um, no." He handed me the portable.

"It's six-thirty in the morning," I grumbled.

"I have been freaking out!" Angela was being very loud. "Where have you been? I was trying to call you all last night and there was no answer. I left like eighty messages and you never called me back!"

"Dad, why didn't we answer the phone yesterday?"

"Because we were at the hospital. You broke your leg."

"Because we were at the hospital. You broke my leg," I repeated.

"I broke your leg?" she screeched.

"Noise, noise, noise." I held the phone away from my ear. Charlie pulled it out of my hand and began saying something about compound fractures and Vicodin. Whatever. If I broke my leg, it definitely didn't feel like it. All I wanted was to go back to sleep.

"How did you break your leg?" Angela asked.

How did I get the phone back? Where did Charlie go? "I dunno. Think it was a cash register."

"A cash register? How can you break your leg on a cash register? That doesn't make sense. Those pills must be really potent."

"This is a story about a girl named Lucky."

"Huh?"

"I don't know why I said that."

There was a giggle on the other end of the phone. "Oh, Bella, you are so high."

"I thought I was Lucky."

"That's definitely the Vicodin speaking. Your dad says you're on a large dose to keep the pain down."

"Oh, is that why it doesn't hurt?"

"I don't know but your dad says you'll be well enough to go to school tomorrow, which is a good thing because guess what?"

"Chicken butt."

"I'm going to the Valentine's Day dance with Ben Cheney tomorrow night!"

"NO WAY!" I exaggerated every syllable and even some that weren't there.

"Oh, my God, you are _so_ high. But yes, we're going, and I have to ask you a huge favor."

"Anything, Angela. Absolutely anything, Angela. Anything for awesome Angela."

"Well, you know my parents have that rule that I can't go on a date until I'm sixteen?"

"That is utter shit!"

Angela laughed but continued. "I can only go if someone comes with me, kind of like a chaperone. So, I was wondering if you would help me out with that?"

"Of course, Angela! You are my best friend and, like you would do for me, I would do for you. It takes two, baby. Anyway, Swirl wants to go."

"Who's Swirl?"

"Edward, silly," I said, envisioning my beautiful boyfriend. He was so beautiful. Beautiful and hot.

"Edward wants to go to the dance?"

"Yeppers."

"What are you talking about?"

"Dr. Cullen was my doctor last night," I suddenly remembered. "I should probably call Edward."

"Why is that?"

"To tell him that I'm all right. He must be worried."

"Bella, I'm not sure that's the best—"

"I have to go. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Wait!"

I felt kind of bad hanging up the phone on my best friend, but I needed to make sure Edward knew I was all right. I dialed his number into the phone and held it up to my ear, eager to hear the sound of his voice. It wasn't until the phone was ringing that I got the ominous feeling telling me this wasn't a good idea. Then I remembered why.

"Thank you for calling. This is Edward Cullen, the founder and president of MyT-Spot. com speaking. I appreciate your call, how may I help you?" My heart sputtered at the sound of his voice, and then proceeded to ache as the foggy memories of our break-up filtered in. "Is there anyone there?"

I still didn't say anything.

"Bella?" he guessed in a quiet voice.

I couldn't answer, and yet I couldn't hang up. He didn't either, and I listened in silence to the sound of his breathing until Charlie arrived with a tray of breakfast. "I'm sorry," I whispered, before hanging up.

Collapsing onto my pillow, I turned toward the wall and snuggled into my blankets. "I feel like I got shot by a tranquilizer. I think sleep is hunting me."

"No, you can't go back to sleep," Charlie said with a small shake on my arm. "You have to get up and get dressed so I can take you over to Billy's."

"Whatta?"

"I'm taking you over to Billy Black's place for the day since I can't stay home from work with you."

"But I don't even know Gilly Block. I don't need a babysitter."

"Bells, on your best day you are klutzy. Right now you are heavily medicated and have a large cast on your right leg — that's a recipe for disaster. I'm not leaving you alone. Now get up and get dressed."

I rolled over on my bed to face him. "But how am I supposed to do that with this on?" I lifted my bulky, white cast off the bed for emphasis.

"You'll figure it out," he mirthfully said, exiting the room.

_**. . .**_

It'd been a long time since I'd seen Billy or La Push, but it felt familiar pulling up to his house. My dad carried my backpack up the stairs to the porch, while I hobbled my way over on the crutches. This was not going to end well.

Billy opened the door with a smile. "Hello, Bella. Welcome."

"You have nice hair," I complimented, carefully working my way inside.

Charlie pointed at me and gave Billy the universal sign for crazy. "She doesn't have a very high tolerance for pain medication," he said, completely ignoring my glare.

"That is _so_ not true!"

"Don't worry. I'm sure your dad is being dramatic like normal."

"Thank you so much!" I smiled at Billy gratefully. That is, until a picture of a beautiful Native American woman on his fireplace mantel distracted me. "Why is your picture looking at me funny? Does she think I'm weird?" Billy raised both of his eyebrows while Charlie chortled uncontrollably. "What?"

"Uh, no. She doesn't find you weird," Billy said. "But hey, I got you something to keep you occupied today."

"Really?"

"Yep. I know what it's like not to be able to use your legs." He nodded down to his wheelchair, and then picked up a box that was leaning against the wall. "So, I thought you might try fishing."

"Fishing? _Fishing_?"

"I knew you'd like the idea! There are a few small cliffs right outside the house; you can probably find one that isn't too hard to get to with your leg." Billy passed Charlie the box of fishing crap. "The kids on the res have the day off school. They'll be around if you have any questions."

"Uh, thanks," I said. "This is really… cool."

"I told you she'd love it," Billy said to Charlie. "I'm down with the kids."

"Oh yeah, dude, you're the bomb."

I looked between them in absolute horror. No medication was strong enough for this. "I'll be outside," I said, fleeing the room as fast as my crutches would carry me. Charlie followed and located a small cliff overlooking the ocean that wasn't far off the road.

"Do you seriously expect me to _fish_, Dad?" I asked, sitting down in the canvas chair Charlie set up for me and propping my foot up on the box of fishing supplies. "I have homework to do."

"You know what they say: 'A bad day of fishing is better than a good day at work,'" he quoted.

"Who says that?"

Charlie smiled, and, after handing me the baited hook, said, "Never mind that. Do me a favor? Wait until the Vicodin's worn off before tackling your homework. I think you'll be happier with the result."

"Whatever." I held the fishing pole rod firmly and attempted to flick the hook forcefully enough to land in the water below.

"Wow. You're about as bad as Edward at casting a line."

"Edward sucks at fishing?" I perked up at this new tidbit of information.

"Yeah, he's pretty much the worst — besides you, of course." Charlie paused, contemplating, before he added, "He did shock the hell out of me by catching a Tiger Muskie once."

"What's a Tiger Muskie?"

"Something precious." He placed a small kiss on my forehead, then turned to leave. "Be good for Billy, please."

I put the fishing pole down next to my chair and dug inside my heavy backpack to pull out my CD player and headphones. I set my backpack firmly on top of the rod so if I did miraculously catch a fish, it wouldn't go anywhere. Leaned back and eyes closed, I was ready to spend the morning with the only person who always seemed to understand me: Britney.

She'd recently gone through her own heart-wrenching break-up with Justin Timberlake, so we were never more connected. Song after song, Britney poured her heart out. By the time I got to _Born to Make You Happy_ the tears had started flowing again.

It was as if she were looking into my soul when she wrote these lyrics. How could she capture so perfectly what I was feeling now?

_I don't know how to live without your love  
I was born to make you happy_

Yesterday I had walked into Newton's Outfitters with a mission to find an Edward-less routine, but my broken leg had ripped that small solace away. Fate was having a good laugh. I couldn't be with him and I couldn't be without him.

I reached to retrieve the next CD in Britney's collection, but my fingers scraped something else in my backpack pocket. I'd put the Evenstar in there after taking it back from Edward. After pulling the precious gift from its hiding place, I gently caressed its delicate surface.

"That's a nice necklace."

I screamed in shock. One of the res boys was lounging on the ground next to me. "What the hell are you doing here?" I clutched my pounding heart.

"You're Bella, right? I saw you over here and thought I'd come hang out."

"Why?" I immediately disliked this boy.

"For shits and giggles." He had a cocky grin that made me want to punch him. I flipped him my pinky. "What are you doing?"

I shoved my pinky further in his face. "I'm giving you the feather 'cause Charlie says I'm not allowed to give anyone the bird."

He looked at me incredulously for a second before breaking out into obnoxious, howling laughter. "Are you for real, right now?"

My eyes narrowed. "How long have you been sitting here?"

"A while. I never knew girls cried so much. You're all weird."

"How old are you anyway? Nine?" I shot back.

"I'm thirteen," he said proudly.

"So you're a scrub?"

"A scrub?"

"Yeah, you know. A middle-schooler?" Kids could be so annoying at times.

"Dude, what're you, sixteen? Plus you cry and you're a girl and you don't even give the bird. That makes you like forty-three."

"Stupid scrub."

"So, how did you break your leg?"

"On a cash register," I answered shortly, trying to make it clear that I wasn't interested in pursuing a conversation.

"Dude, how does that even happen? Who's stupid enough to break their leg on a cash register?"

I was about to respond back in righteous indignation when something over his shoulder caught my attention. "Hey, Derek, what are those boys doing?"

"My name's not Derek. It's—"

"Sure, sure. Can you tell me what they're doing?"

He looked over his shoulder. "They're cliff diving."

"Is it safe?" I stumbling up onto my good leg to get a clearer view. A boy took a running start and leapt off the edge of the cliff.

"It's safe if you know what you're doing. Most of us start jumping off smaller cliffs like this one when we're kids. Why? Do _you_ want to try?" Instead of answering, I tightened my grip on the Evenstar and turned to face the vast ocean in front of me. "Are you crazy or just stupid? You can't jump off a cliff with a cast on. You'll drown and I'm not going in after you. The water's too cold!"

I ignored him, having more important things to think about. Not without effort, I took another small step forward. The wind from the ocean was cold on my face. The rock beneath my feet was slightly damp. The Vicodin was starting to wear off, and I was beginning to feel a tinge of pain in my right leg.

This felt right. This felt like the place I needed to do this at. Even from far away I could see what the cliff-diving boys experienced when they jumped — it was freedom for them and that's what I needed for myself. I needed to be free from the pain, from the heartache, from Edward, and there was only one way to do that.

The hand that held my Evenstar hovered over the cliff as far as I could reach. I remembered how thrilled I'd been when Edward accepted this token of my affection and how afterwards we'd shared our first kiss. My eyes closed and I imagined the feel of his hand in mine, his breath on my face, the sound of his voice.

"I love you, Edward," I whispered into the wind. A small smile played on my lips as his remembered face appeared before my eyes.

And with that, I let the Evenstar drop.

My heart sank into my stomach as I waited for the plop of it landing in the water, but instead heard, "Uh, are you sure you want to drop this into the ocean?" I peeked through one eye to find Scrub assessing my Evenstar, which he'd caught right after it fell. Shit. I'd forgotten he was there. "It's a really nice piece of jewelry. If you don't want it, I'll keep it?"

I yanked the Evenstar out of his grip. "What do you think you're doing? That doesn't belong to you!" As the words flew from my mouth, I realized how huge a mistake I'd almost made.

The necklace didn't belong to Scrub, but it also didn't belong to me. It wasn't mine to throw away. Losing the necklace would not absolve me from the pain — _that_ could not be launched off a cliff. And even though I had it in my possession, my heart was always going to be _his_.

"Uh… Bella?"

"What?" I snapped, annoyed that Scrub was interrupting my epiphany.

"I think you caught a fish."

The tip of my rod was bending and my heart skipped a beat. I had caught a fish. My God, maybe I was Charlie Swan's daughter! Scrub helped me reel in the line but my excitement instantly vanished as the catch came into view.

I had caught… seaweed.

Typical.

_**. . .**_

**Day Seven Without Him**

Hobbling into Musical Theater class, I wasn't sure how I was supposed to act. After all, Edward and I may or may not have spent a couple minutes on the phone yesterday morning… _breathing_? I couldn't quite remember; a lot of yesterday's details were muddled.

My heart plummeted when I saw Edward sitting in the front row talking to Eric Yorkie, rather than the back where we normally sat together. I didn't know why I had expected anything different. He had probably done it because he didn't want me to feel obligated to sit next to him, but it still hurt making my way back my regular seat alone.

There was no way around it — today was complete shit. The cherry on top of the cake was that it was also Valentine's Day, and Angela, my former best friend, had tricked me into going to the stupid dance tonight. I'd considered not going on principle (having agreed while under the influence), but this was the moment she'd been waiting for with Ben Cheney. She deserved her happily ever after.

Of their own accord, my eyes looked over to Edward, and then widened when I realized he was staring at me. Well, kind of. It'd be more accurate to say he was glaring at my foot. Specifically, my cast. But really, it was attached to my foot which was attached to me, so it was all the same thing.

Out of irritation, he tapped a pencil relentlessly against his binder. If he hadn't just ripped my heart out of my chest and stomped it into a million pieces, sending me into a black hole of despair, I might have found it funny how he seemed incapable of keeping his eyes off my cast for more than thirty-seven seconds at a time. But that, coupled with my growing anxiety over Mrs. McCrae announcing the cast, meant my nerves were wearing thin.

"Can I help you?" I finally asked.

He looked up from my ankle to my face; his eyes were soft and somewhat compassionate. He remedied that quickly, though, shrugging and turning to the front of the room. Of course, thirty-three seconds later he was back to glaring at my cast. He probably didn't realize he was doing it. Oh well, at least he was staring at me.

Mrs. McCrae walked into the class holding a stack of paperback books with _Cinderella_ written across their spines. "I know you've all been anticipating this day for a very long time," she said, placing the playbooks on the hood of the piano. "So, I won't keep you waiting."

A knot coiled painfully in my stomach, and if it were even possible, my heart started beating faster. The smug look Alice shot back at me confirmed she knew her victory was close at hand. And she was right. Mrs. McCrae would never elect a Cinderella that had a broken leg. Yet, despite knowing it wasn't possible, my body reacted as if I still had a chance in hell at getting the lead.

"First off, we'll start with the female roles. I'm happy to announce that the role of Cinderella will go to…"

The knot gave an agonizing twist and I held my breath.

"Alice Brandon."

I kept my eyes closed for a few precious seconds, if only to pretend it was a dream, and then opened them to the sight of a squealing Alice accepting the first copy of the playbook. The anticipation was worse than actually knowing. And now that I did know, I could happily envision Alice wearing a hideous blonde wig and a humongous blue dress that overwhelmed her petite frame. It was almost enough to override my outstanding disappointment that Edward was going to be her Prince Charming.

_Almost_ being the key word. I brushed away a stay tear, not allowing the image of Edward kissing Alice to infiltrate my brain. I would only cross that bridge when I absolutely had to. The familiar numbness filled me as Mrs. McCrae began listing off the other roles. I wouldn't have even heard what happened next if she hadn't announced that I would play the queen just before.

"And Prince Charming will be played by Eric Yorkie." Over the eerie silence that followed, I actually heard Alice's mouth pop open.

"Wait, what?" Eric asked in utter disbelief. Alice nodded along with him, and suddenly this play became the most irrationally exciting thing in my life.

Though I tried to cover it up with a cough, there was no way to hide my giggle. I hadn't felt this giddy in a long time, and my giggle turned into a full-on laugh when Alice turned to glare at me. "You heard her, Eric. You're Prince Charming."

My confirmation was like Polyjuice Potion to the petrified Eric, and he walked to the front of the class to collect his playbook. For the briefest of moments I let my guard down and glanced at Edward. He was looking back at me, his eyes shining with humor.

I felt the familiar flutter of butterflies in my stomach that always came when he looked at me like that. I missed it — I missed _him_, but never so much as I did right now. It was times like this that defined our relationship — little moments that we shared because we were the only two people in the world that got it. In a way, this moment was perfect because it didn't feel as if Edward and I had ever broken up. It felt like we were back to whom we'd always been together. And in a way, the pain was much worse because of it.

Mrs. McCrae's announcement that Edward would be playing the king pulled his attention away from me, and our connection was broken. I blinked in bewilderment, needing to get out of here and fast. Mrs. McCrae easily consented to my request to use the restroom, and I hurried down the aisle on my crutches.

The hallway was blessedly empty and easy to navigate. It was when I was faced with the task of opening the bathroom door that the challenge presented itself. Try as I might, I couldn't maneuver my bulky cast past the entrance without catching my foot on the edge of the door, and I would have fallen flat on my face if a pair of strong arms hadn't caught me on the way down. For a second I thought Edward had followed me from the classroom, but when I looked up it was a pair of blue eyes I met, not green.

"You look like shit." Rosalie Hale was never one for tact.

In an impressive display of strength, she managed to tilt me back up on my foot and hold the door open at the same time. "Thank you," I said, hobbling to the sinks.

"It's no big. I hate it when people aren't honest with me. You deserve the same courtesy."

"Right. Of course I was referring to your blunt insult, and not your saving me."

"Yeah, I'm a hero." She followed me over to the sinks and began applying red lip gloss. "So, how did you break your leg?"

I was so sick of repeating this story. "Let's just say there was a cash register involved."

"A cash register? What kind of moron manages to break their leg on a cash register?" I ignored her dig, and began washing my hands under the warm water — crutches were particularly strenuous on them. I also splashed some water on my face. "You know that's not going to help erase the baggies under your eyes, right? You should try Avon — their make up is the best—"

"I'm getting really tired of people telling what I should or shouldn't do," I said. "I get it. I suck. I wish everyone would stop pointing it out."

She went quiet. I was about to apologize for venting, when she shifted her weight and awkwardly said, "You may speak to me about your problems."

Though positive I had misheard her, her expression told me I hadn't. "Why, uh, thank you for the honor, your majesty. But no thank you." I hadn't spoken about this with Angela; did she really think I would talk about it with her?

Rosalie rolled her eyes. "Once upon a time someone found me in a bathroom crying and offered to listen. Yadda, yadda, yadda. Listen to your own damn advice and speak already." She actually made a valid point, and I had to think it wasn't coincidence that the only time we'd ever made an effort to talk was in this exact restroom. Maybe she was the best person to talk to, since she'd gone through something similar with Emmett.

For the first time since it happened, I spoke about the break-up. I told her the build up of events that led to that fatal argument, and about everything that came after it. She listened and I found that it did help having a confidant to share this with. Until it was time for her to talk, that was.

"Wow. You're an even bigger idiot than I thought." Yep. Never one for tact, that Rosalie Hale. "Let me get this straight. You broke up with the boy you claim you're in love with over _Harry Potter_?"

"It wasn't like that," I said, annoyed by her insinuation that I didn't love Edward. "There were other things on top of that, like all the lies—"

"You're such a moron. You accuse him of lying to you, and yet you did the exact same thing. You blamed him for not taking an interest in your hobbies, and yet expected him to know you didn't enjoy his. Take some damn responsibility in this."

I stood there, stunned. Why did this sound so much worse coming from Rosalie? "So it's all my fault? He tries to get back at me with that stupid shrine and I have to sit down and take it?"

"I never said it was all your fault. Edward is equally moronic. But all you have is excuses. I mean really? _Harry Potter_ versus _Lord of the Rings_? Who the hell breaks up over that? It sounds to me like you were looking for an excuse to break-up."

"How can you say that?"

"Because we have these things called mouths, and normal people use it to talk to one another. Clearly both you and Edward are defective or you'd be doing that right now instead of fucking around and torturing each other. If you love him as much as you say you do, you'd do everything in your power to fight for him."

"I'm sorry, but the last time I checked your track record wasn't so clean. Unless you count making out with your boyfriend's best friend fighting for what you want," I said, regretting it as it came out of my mouth.

Rosalie's eyes flashed and she took a deep breath. "As a matter of fact, you'd be amazed at how simply talking about an issue can solve it. If Emmett can forgive me for what happened with Royce, I think you can forgive Edward for his petty, yet hilarious, revenge."

"Wait, you and Emmett are back together?" I asked.

"Yep, we, ya know, _used our mouths_."

"You mean you talked about it."

"Among other things."

Right. That was my cue to leave.

_**. . .**_

I didn't want to listen to Rosalie. I wanted to push her down a flight of stairs for questioning my love for Edward. She was wrong about the franchises being our downfall. It was deeper than that. He had lied to me, belittled my interests. So what if I had held out on the information that I hated _Lord of the Rings_? At least I had tried.

It was long past the final bell when I returned to Musical Theater, and the classroom was empty save Mrs. McCrae. I said a quick apology and she pointed toward my desk, where she had put my copy of _Cinderella_. It wasn't the book, however, that made me stop in my tracks.

"A member of student council came by with Valentine's Day Flower-grams. I told him to put it with your stuff." Technically, the unassuming flower could have been from anyone in the school. In my gut, I knew it was from him. "And for what it's worth," Mrs. McCrae called, exiting the music room, "I think you're going to be great as Edward's queen."

My breathing sped, not from the exertion of getting to my desk, but from the excitement of what this meant. I recognized his handwriting upon opening the note attached to the carnation, and my heart stopped in my chest before taking off at the speed of sound. I was transported back to exactly one year ago when a certain boy had sent over thirty flower-grams to my class with notes written in Elvish. I had begged him to tell me what those notes meant, but he had only smiled obstinately and told me to figure it out for myself.

This year, the message was different.

"_Annon gur nîn achen._

_I give you my heart."_

The flame that had gone out reignited in my soul, quickly growing into a raging inferno. The fire blazed bright and beautiful, blinding me of any resentment or lingering anger I had felt towards him in the past.

Excuses. Rosalie was right. I was all excuses. And I was a coward. I was waiting for Edward to come to me because I was too afraid to tell him how I felt. Even before we broke up, I had been waiting on him. Enough was enough. I had to fight for him, _really_ fight for him.

I couldn't believe it had taken Rosalie Hale to put all this into perspective. Who knew a girl like her had layers under all that hostility?

_**. . .**_

The gym was decorated like Cupid's worst nightmare. There were red streamers everywhere, heart-shaped balloons and shiny pink confetti artfully tossed on each of the tables. I had chosen a seat far away from the dance floor, not wanting to see how happy everyone else was this Valentine's Day. Instead, I traced the design imprinted on the red paper tablecloth and plotted my next move for getting back together with Edward.

My notepad and pen sat idly in front of me. I had never felt so out of place before, wearing jeans and a t-shirt.

Angela flung herself into a neighboring seat, reminding me why I was here. "Oh, my God, Bella. Isn't tonight magical?" she asked with sparkling eyes. She looked beautiful tonight, genuinely happy.

Instead of answering her question, I asked, "So you're having a good time?" If her night was magical, I wasn't ruining it for her.

"Yes. Ben is so much fun!" She let out a tiny squeal, and despite my growing smile, I was envious of her — I missed the exhilaration of new love. "What have you been up to in your little corner?" she asked, grabbing my notepad off the table. Her smile faded as she read over the list. "Seriously, Bella? Cook him a cake frosted with I love you, write him a poem that rhymes with I love you, make him a t-shirt that says I love you? Please tell me this is a joke."

Snatching the notepad back from her, I said, "Okay, fine. So maybe they aren't my most brilliant ideas ever. I'm working on it."

"You don't have to do any of those ridiculous things to win Edward back. All you have to do is _tell _him you love him. You don't need to do it with some stupid grand gesture." I was on the verge of giving her the feather. "But then again, maybe grand gestures aren't the worst thing in the world." Her eyes were centered on the dance floor and I followed her gaze.

I gasped sharply as the crowd parted for him. No grand gesture on my part would ever come close to topping this.

Edward Cullen stood there, confident in his black slacks, grey vest, long flowing robe, and lightning bolt scar, complete with broomstick and circular glasses. Daniel Radcliffe would never again be the Harry Potter I dreamed about.

The entire student body was staring at him, but Edward was solely focused on me. The crooked smile I loved was fixed on his lips, amused, I was sure, at the reaction he was stirring up in me. I could only imagine how stupid I looked admiring the Eighth World Wonder. He strode over with purpose and determination, and said, "Thank you for getting her here." What? He was staring into my eyes, but his words didn't make sense.

"You're welcome. It was easier than I thought — she was heavily medicated when I asked." The little manipulator!

"It's very much appreciated. Would you mind holding my broomstick?" Edward passed his authentic-looking Nimbus 2001 to Angela. "Bella and I are going to dance."

"Uh, Edward, I don't know if you've noticed but I broke my leg. I don't think dancing is possible."

Edward's smile didn't fall, but turned mischievous. "That won't be a problem," he said, sweeping me off my feet. Literally. He picked me up and carried me to the edge of the dance floor, then tenderly placed me down so that each of my feet were positioned on top of his. I laced my arms around his neck, clinging to him to steady myself. Edward rested his hands on the small of my back, drawing me impossibly closer. And because magic exists, *NSYNC's _God Must Have Spent a Little More Time on You_ came over the sound system.

It felt as though we were the only two people in the room, cocooned in each other's embrace as we moved in small circles. This had to be the most romantic moment of my life. I didn't want to waste any of it. I laid my head against his chest and was content to finally feel the beat of his heart, breathe in his perfect scent, immerse myself in his warmth.

Edward rested his cheek against my hair, and I imagined that he was reacquainting himself with me just as I was doing with him. The moment only became more perfect when he began singing so only I could hear.

"_Can this be true? Tell me, can this be real?  
__How can I put into words what I feel?  
__My life was complete. I thought I was whole.  
__Why do I feel like I'm losing control?"_

"Tell me something," he said abruptly.

"Anything."

"How did you break your leg?" I groaned, burying my face even further in his chest. "My dad refused to tell me, reciting some crap about doctor/patient confidentiality."

I looked up at him, happy that the gym was dark so he couldn't see how red my face was. "It's not that I don't want to tell you — it's just really embarrassing…"

"Please, Bella?" he begged. "It's been _torturing_ me."

"Fine, I tripped over a cash register. Happy now?"

Edward stopped dancing. "How can you trip over a cash register? Aren't they generally on counters?"

Blushing harder, I turned away. Edward chuckled and resumed our slow spinning. "Tell me something else?"

"It depends."

His expression was guarded as he asked, "Did-did you mean what you said in the office? About no amount of time changing your feelings for me?"

"Absolutely," I said. "Nothing could change how I feel about you — not _Lord of the Rings_, not Audrey Hepburn, and certainly not _Harry Potter_." I took a deep breath, trying to gather courage for what I was about to tell him. "Edward, I love you. With my whole heart, I _love_ you."

All of the air seemed to leave his body. Relief flitted across his face, which swiftly grew into a huge smile. "Oh, thank God!" he said loudly, with a slightly hysterical laugh. "I thought you would _never_ say that."

"Me?" I asked in astonishment. "_Me_? What about you? I've been waiting for _you_ to say it!"

He looked confused. "But I have been saying it. I've been saying it for over a year. What do you think _amin mela lle_ means?"

"How the hell am I supposed to know that, Edward? I speak English!" I said, suddenly furious. "How many thousands of times have I asked you to translate that for me? How could you possibly tell me the single most important thing I will ever hear in… _Elvish_? You are such a—"

And then nothing else mattered because Edward was kissing me. And not some soft, gentle, sweet kiss, but one that was filled with passion and hope and ecstasy. I poured every ounce of love and desire into that kiss, and Edward responded with equal fervor.

_Never thought that love could feel like this  
__And you changed my world with just one kiss_

I pulled away from him, breathless and utterly content. Well, except for one thing…

"Edward? Will you do something for me?"

He swept a lock of hair away from my face and gently caressed my cheek. "Anything," he whispered.

"For God's sake, will you please just say it in English?"

He let out a chuckle before looking deeply in my eyes and saying with absolute sincerity, "Since the very moment that you stepped into my world, with everything that I am, my entire heart and soul, I have been yours. Isabella Marie Swan, I love you."

With those simple, honest words, everything in me shifted. I wasn't the same girl I had been moments ago — I was Edward Anthony Cullen's Bella. I belonged to him and he would always be mine. A tear ran down my cheek at the devotion behind his words, the pure, unqualified reverence.

Edward kissed the tear away, and, pulling me hopelessly closer to him, whispered into my ear, "And so the Ringer fell in love with the Potterphile."

I laughed. "What a stupid Potterphile."

"What a sick, masochistic Ringer," he teased back.

"There's hope for you yet. After all, you did show up to a school function dressed as Harry Potter."

"I figured I would need all the help I could get after you dumped the root beer float on me Wednesday."

"I would apologize and say I regretted it… except I don't."

He beamed. "Figures. Stubborn girl."

_When I look into your eyes, I know that it's true._

"Bella?"

"Yes?"

"My feet hurt."

_God must have spent a little more time on you._

_. . ._

**A/N: **Thank you to my lovely betas xsecretxkeeperx and acciodanrad9, as well as my very own tiger muskie, Squally, for pre-reading! Also, to the magnificent reviewers from last chapter – your never-ending support and encouragement means the world to me.

Up Next... _Outtake: The Reaffirmation of Edward and Bella as Seen by Carlisle Cullen_


	19. Outtake: The Reaffirmation

**An Introduction to Swirl and Daisy: The Non-Romantic Romance**

Disclaimer: Any Twilight characters that may appear in this story belong to Stephenie Meyer. The remainder is my original work. No reproduction is allowed without my written consent.

_Outtake: The Reaffirmation of Edward and Bella as Seen by Carlisle Cullen_

_**. . .**_

Dr. Carlisle Cullen had always considered himself to be lucky in regards to his family. He'd endured his fair share of struggles, but by the grace of God he'd overcome the odds. After a difficult pregnancy, his wife had delivered a baby boy six weeks pre-mature on June 20, 1988. The first few weeks had been devastating for Carlisle and Esme, as they watched their son fight to be strong enough to live and breathe on his own.

There was never a happier day for either of the new parents as when they brought Edward home to their beautiful white house and settled into a cozy lifestyle. Watching Edward grow up was the joy of Carlisle and Esme's life and, in Carlisle's mind, the three of them made the perfect little family.

As he got older, Esme began to worry that Edward was missing something in his life. The young boy was rather reclusive, choosing to spend his time reading instead of playing with kids his age. Though he would never use the word "normal" to describe his son, Carlisle thought that Edward was happy and he knew that his son was healthy – that was all that mattered in his eyes.

Carlisle could have never predicted that the arrival of the Police Chief's only daughter to Forks would have affected his life so thoroughly. He never expected to see the young girl beyond perhaps an occasional trip to the emergency room. And yet on September 5, 2001 the lives of the entire Cullen family changed irrevocably when the little spitfire named Bella Swan tumbled (quite literally) into town.

"And where are you going?" Carlisle had called as his son charged into the house that afternoon and immediately headed up to his room.

Edward paused midway up the stairs. "I have to get changed. I need to go to the police station to talk to Chief Swan."

"What? The police station? What did you do?"

"It's not what you think," Esme cut in, following her son into the house. She walked over to Carlisle and pecked him on the cheek. "Edward has found his soul mate."

He looked between his wife and his son in disbelief, expecting one of them to start laughing. "Is that true?" he asked Edward, when neither of them did.

Carlisle almost choked on a cough as Edward's eyes glazed over and the goofiest grin overtook his face. "_The braids of her dark hair were touched by no frost; her white arms and clear face were flawless and smooth, and the light of stars was in her bright eyes, grey as a cloudless night; yet queenly she looked, and thought and knowledge were in her glance, as of one who has known many things that the years bring_."

"So she's… Arwen?" Carlisle concluded, debating having another discussion with his son about the difference between reality and fiction.

"Better! And her eyes are not grey, but rather like orbs dipped in the deepest, darkest, sweetest chocolate imaginable."

His son had just described a girl's eyes as chocolate orbs. It was like something out of a bad romance novel. "And what's this about the police station?"

"The girl who has so swiftly stolen our son's affection is Chief Swan's daughter," Esme said. "He wants to go talk to Charlie about possibly dating her."

"Don't you think you're jumping the gun there?" Carlisle asked, amused at his son's unusual request.

"No, you don't understand. You haven't _seen_ her. She is… breathtaking. The boys at school couldn't stop talking about her. I have to act now, before it's too late."

Carlisle tried to process what was happening. That morning Edward had woken up, had a bowl of fruit loops, and accidentally slammed into the front door frame when he tried to walk and read _The_ _Two Towers_ at the same time. And now he was in love?

"She's everything I could have imagined and more. She's my soul mate." The young boy's voice held no doubt or sense of irony.

"Your soul mate?" When Esme had said it earlier, it sounded like a joke. Edward said it with such sincerity that Carlisle wouldn't dare laugh at his son's newfound devotion.

And yet, it wasn't the way Edward wouldn't stop prattling on about Bella's eyes, Bella's hair, Bella's t-shirt that convinced Carlisle to drive Edward to the police station later that day, but rather the way his wife's eyes sparkled as she watched her son talk about the new love of his life. From the expression on Esme's face, Carlisle could tell that Edward had found that elusive something that had been missing from his life for the past thirteen years.

He made a silent promise to his wife that he would do everything in his power to make sure that Edward never lost it again.

_**. . .**_

Carlisle sat back in his office chair and massaged his forehead. That promise was getting more difficult to keep as each day passed. How had he never realized what obstinate, difficult creatures teenage boys could be? Granted, Edward had never acted the part of the rebellious, disgruntled teen before, but he had come unflinchingly close to the edge since his break-up with Bella. Carlisle feared that a few more days like today would push him over that edge.

How Edward had managed to land himself in the principal's office for the second time in a year was beyond Carlisle's comprehension. He'd been so attached to his spotless academic record previous to this year. A fight with Michael Newton and a root beer float had changed all that.

Carlisle cleared his thoughts and flipped through the patients' charts he'd be treating tonight. It would be a fairly quiet evening – so far there was only a girl in her early teens with a broken leg and a pregnant woman who was having early labor pains. This was his first day back to work since Friday, having taken a four-day sabbatical to stay home with Edward while he worked through his devastation over losing Bella. Not that it had done any good. Carlisle was useless at dealing with this side of his son, though he'd always been Edward's closest friend and confidant.

Of course, he'd known that as his son got older their relationship would begin to change. What Carlisle hadn't realized until the night Edward lost Bella was how much it already had changed. He no longer carried the title of best friend – that belonged to Bella now.

Carlisle picked the charts up from his desk and made his way towards the maternity ward. Since suffering through his own terrifying ordeal, he'd had a soft place in his heart for young, pregnant mothers. He understood how frightening it could be feeling as if something was not quite right with the baby.

The young girl with the broken leg would have to wait.

Still, something about his decision felt off. As he made his way to the young mother, he couldn't help but think of Bella.

_**. . .**_

A loud pounding on his office door roused Carlisle from the book he was reading. The art of paper airplane making was often overlooked in the United States, but John Collins managed to outline the finer points of the craft perfectly in his book _The Gliding Flight_.

He was surprised to find Bella at his door, and even more so when she said, "I need to go home."

Something was wrong. Bella _never_ asked to be taken home. She'd stay until curfew every night, and even then Edward would ride in the back seat of the car with her. "Are you sick?" Carlisle snapped into doctor mode and did a quick mental inventory of her physical appearance. She was grasping her backpack tightly in front of her, her eyes were bloodshot, and she was trembling.

"No. I just need to go home," she said.

"Okay." Carlisle grabbed his keys. "Will Edward be coming with us?"

"No," she said, her voice empty. "He won't be. Not anymore." Not this. Edward would be devastated. "Do you mind if we leave now? I really need to get home."

Carlisle focused back on the girl in front of him. He needed to take care of her before he began to think of what awaited his return in the aftermath of a break-up. "Can you meet me down at the car? I need to make a quick call first."

She left the office without another word.

He picked up the phone and dialed a number he had come to know by heart over the past year. "Charlie, we have a problem…"

_**. . .**_

He might not have recognized the bedroom he walked into as Edward's if it were not for his son sitting stagnant at the foot of his bed amongst the trashed ruins of what had once been his personal sanctuary.

Slowly, Carlisle waded through the chaotic remnants of Edward's bedroom. His dresser had been pushed over, but not before he had taken out every article of clothing in it and furiously thrown them around the room. The shelf that had held all of his Audrey Hepburn memorabilia had been pulled out of the wall, leaving large chucks of plaster missing where the nails had been. A poster of Arwen had been shredded to pieces and the frame that had held it broken by the fists of a distraught teenage boy repeatedly throwing blow after blow to it.

Carlisle paused when he stepped on a sketchbook that lay on the floor. Edward had torn every drawing the book contained to scraps, but Carlisle could make out bits and pieces of Bella's face. He bent down and reached to pick up the book.

"Don't," Edward ordered. "Don't touch that."

"Okay." Carlisle straightened his stance but did not move towards his son. It was clear Edward wasn't ready to be approached. "Why – why did you tear them up?"

For a moment he thought Edward wasn't going to answer, not because he didn't want to but because he seemed at a loss for words. "She didn't like them."

Carlisle wanted to question that; Bella had always been intrigued by Edward's artistic aptitude. But it wasn't a good idea to challenge his son right now. Instead he asked the question he most wanted to know. "What happened?"

Edward was silent much longer at this query. "She doesn't love me," he said minutes later.

"That isn't true." There had never been any doubt about the extent of affection the young girl felt toward his son.

"And what would you know about it?" Edward asked, angrily turning to face his father. "Can you read her mind? Because I certainly can't."

"You don't always need to be a mind reader to know what people are thinking." Edward had already turned his back to him. "Listen to me. I saw how she looked at you on your first date and I see how she looks at you now. She does love-"

"Fuck off."

Never in his life had his son spoken like that, and Carlisle stood in stunned silence. "Please, leave," the boy amended quietly.

"Let me help you," Carlisle pleaded.

"Out! Get out!" Edward's voice broke and a sob ripped through his body.

Carlisle stood there for only a moment longer, then turned and walked out of the room. He waited outside Edward's bedroom door for hours, hoping that his son could feel his presence through the wall that divided them. When Esme came home, he couldn't find it in himself to leave his son alone. His wife returned a few minutes later carrying pillows and blankets, and the two parents spent the night on the hallway floor.

He hadn't realized he'd fallen asleep until he woke up to the sound of Edward retching into the bathroom toilet. For the first time in years, Carlisle shed a tear for his son.

_**. . .**_

Instead of going in to work like any normal Tuesday, Carlisle sat in his home office, sifting through paperwork.

It'd been four days since what he now scathingly called "the incident" had taken place and Edward wasn't doing much better than he had that first night. He hardly slept, he barely ate, and he outright refused to discuss "the incident" beyond what he had already told his father. Esme was out of her mind with worry, not to mention distraught by Bella's absence.

On Monday, she had insisted that Edward wasn't ready to go back to school yet, and against his better judgment, Carlisle had allowed him to stay home. It was his opinion that in order to move past this, his son should confront his problem head-on instead of running away from it. But perhaps a few days home from school, cooped up in his depressing torn-up bedroom, was what Edward needed.

To put his wife's mind further at ease, Carlisle had taken the last few days off work. He'd brought paperwork home from the office to keep his mind occupied between his hourly check-ups of Edward, which essentially included walking upstairs, opening his son's bedroom door, and making sure he was still alive. He didn't believe Edward was really capable of hurting himself, but he wasn't ready to leave the volatile teen home alone yet.

Carlisle was just reading over a grant proposal for new x-raying equipment when the soulful sound of Sting singing _Ain't No Sunshine_ began blaring from Edward's stereo through the ceiling. Carlisle groaned – his son did have a flair for the dramatics. Over the last two days, he'd blasted Whitney Houston's _I Will Always Love You_, Patrick Swayze's _She's Like the Wind_, Taylor Dane's _Love Will Lead You Back_, and many more equally ridiculous eighties power ballads throughout the house… on repeat. Carlisle was slowly beginning to lose his mind.

By the sixteenth repeat of _Ain't No Sunshine_, Carlisle had hit his limit. Preparing himself for a confrontation with his son, he put down his paperwork and walked upstairs. He didn't bother knocking on the door; Edward couldn't have heard it over the ruckus his stereo was making anyway. The room was completely dark – the lights were off and the window shades were drawn with the slightest touch of sunlight peaking through the edges.

It took a moment for his eyes to adjust so he could find his son. When he did, his heart stopped. Edward sat in a lonely chair placed directly in the center of the damaged room with one of Carlisle's brandy glasses in his hand. Watching in horror as his son, yet unaware of his presence, raised the glass to his lips and took a sip, Carlisle nearly burst with anger. He understood that Edward was in pain but how many hundreds of times had he gone over the dangers of underage drinking with him?

He marched over to where his son sat and yanked the glass away from him. Edward's face transformed into the same angered expression as Carlisle's. Shouting something that couldn't be heard over the stereo, Edward made a grab for the glass, and Carlisle felt his fury peak. Striding over to the window, he threw open the shades and then made his way to the stereo where he slammed the off button.

"I need that!" Edward shouted, before silence could fall over the room.

Carlisle kept his back turned, trying to remind himself of what it was like to be a teenage boy with a broken heart. He couldn't dredge up the sympathy necessary to keep his temper in check. "How could you, Edward?" he asked, spinning to face him. "I can not begin to tell you how disappointed and angry I am. I know that you are hurting but this," he held up the glass for emphasis, "is unacceptable. Alcohol is not-" Carlisle paused as something about the brandy glass caught his attention. He stared at it a moment longer before bringing it to his nose and sniffing. "This is chocolate milk."

Edward crossed his arms defensively. "What's your point?"

"Why are you using one of my brandy glasses?"

"Haven't you ever heard of symbolism, Dad?"

Not quite knowing what to say, Carlisle took a moment to reflect on the situation. He had caught his son sitting in the dark, drinking _chocolate milk_ out of a brandy glass. A small, hysterical laugh sounded throughout the room. "What am I going to do with you? I have to warn you, chocolate milk is a slippery slope." Carlisle knew he shouldn't mock his son right now, but he blamed it on the absolute madness of the situation. "What next, hot chocolate? Coffee? Or worse, espresso?"

"I do not need to explain myself to you," Edward said, grabbing the glass back. "Now, if you don't mind, I have things to do."

Carlisle patted his son on the shoulder and headed out of the room. The lights cut off as Edward lowered the shades. Carlisle stopped in the doorway to offer one last sentiment before the music started up again. "Oh and Edward?" The bronze head did not turn but Carlisle knew he was listening. "You're going back to school tomorrow."

_. . ._

"Ace high bids," Charlie said, nodding to Principal Benson.

Benson opened his wallet and pulled out two ones. "Two dollars." He tossed them in the middle of his desk.

The irony was not lost on any of the three men that the Chief of Police, the hospital's Chief of Staff, and the Fork's High School Principal were all cramped in a small office playing Seven Card Stud on another man's dime. The taxpayers would not be happy.

Carlisle looked at the two cards sitting in front of the principal, a two and an ace. He wasn't a whiz at poker, but he'd played his fair share in the dorms at John Hopkins. The smirk on Benson's face was an easy tell that he was excited about something hidden in his hand. "I call," Carlisle said, throwing in his two dollars. It was too early in the game to know anything, but his hand was shaping up nicely.

"Are they talking yet?" Charlie asked as he also called and tossed in two dollars.

Carlisle leaned back to peek out the one miniscule window in the office. Edward and Bella were sitting with their arms crossed and their backs turned to each other, waiting for the three men to emerge. The plan that the two fathers had so brilliantly concocted upon entering the principal's office was to not leave the room until Edward and Bella had talked out their issues. Alas, the two pigheaded teens didn't seem inclined to talk at all. Half an hour into their plan without the slightest hint of movement from either of them, Principal Benson had broken out the playing cards.

"Nope," Carlisle said, coming back to the game to find that Benson had dealt a king to add to the pair of twos. In his hand he held a king and a seven. Two pairs. Not bad for someone who hadn't played poker since college. "I swear we have the two most stubborn kids on the planet. Of course they had to gravitate towards each other. I thought _opposites_ were supposed to attract."

"Haven't you heard? They are opposite," Charlie said. "Bella likes _Harry Potter_ and Edward likes _Lord of the Rings_. How will they ever survive?"

Carlisle looked up from his cards. "Wait a minute. _That_ is what this whole mess has been about? Surely not!"

"I'm assuming there's more, but Bella refuses to talk about it."

"Same on this end." Carlisle threw a dollar into the pot. "As I said, ridiculously stubborn, those two."

Charlie let out a gruff chuckle. "Maybe, but you can't deny that they're meant to be together. Knew that the day Edward walked into my office."

"Did you, now?" Carlisle didn't believe for a second that a father as protective as Charlie would ever think that his daughter was "meant to be" with a boy she had known less than twelve hours.

"Yes." Charlie looked him straight in the eye. "I swear it on my mother's grave."

"Well, I'm personally shocked that you let a little punk like Edward date your daughter at all," Principal Benson said, dealing the next round. "No offense Dr. Cullen, but the boy seems like a troublemaker."

Carlisle felt a flash of anger. Edward was many things – a geek, a gamer, a nerd – but he certainly was not a troublemaker. He was about to speak up in defense of his son, when Charlie beat him to the punch. "Edward may be many things but a troublemaker is not one of them." There was a cold tone to his voice and a glint of anger in his eye that made Carlisle feel envious of the relationship this other man had built with his son.

"Oh, come now," the principal said. "This is the second time he's landed himself in the office since the start of the school year. That should mean something to you, of all people."

Charlie's gaze turned even stonier. "Yes, he has. The first time he was in here because he defended my daughter. The second was because he needed to be defended from her. He's a good kid."

"Now, that's not fair," Carlisle said. It was his job to defend Edward, not Charlie's. "You can't blame Bella for everything."

Charlie shook his head and chuckled. "Bella isn't the one sitting out there with vanilla ice-cream and root beer in her hair. She's hardly innocent."

"Well, yes. But we both know Edward must have done or said something extremely stupid to drive Bella to do that."

"As if that's any excuse," Charlie said. "Bella's like her old man, stubborn as a mule with the temper of a raging bull. She's been so unpredictable this week that I wouldn't be surprised if all the poor boy had to say was 'hi' for her to dump it on him."

Carlisle scoffed. "Poor boy? As if Edward is some kind of angel. This has been the week from hell in the Cullen household. He's no saint. Trust me, whatever Bella did, she did it because he provoked her."

Charlie sat forward in agitation. "I highly doubt-"

He was cut off by the principal clearing his throat loudly. "Gentlemen, as amusing as it is watching the two of you defending the other's kid, which, by the way, has never before happened in my twenty year teaching career, we are playing a game of poker here."

"No, Benson, Carlisle and I are playing poker," Charlie said bemusedly. "The two and three in your hand, coupled with the seven you were just dealt equal squat. It takes five to make a straight, not four."

The smirk immediately slipped from Principal Benson's face. "How did you-"

"You have a tell," Carlisle and Charlie answered at the same time. The two stared at each other, coming to a silent understanding that neither was dealing with a novice.

The principal scowled and tossed his cards on the table. "I'm out."

Charlie turned back to Carlisle. "Pair of kings gets to bet," he reminded the doctor.

Glancing down at his cards, Carlisle checked the last card he'd been dealt. Dear God, he'd gotten a full house! He looked over at Charlie's cards. In front of him were a seven, a three, and a pair of tens. Unless he had gold in his hand (which Carlisle highly doubted) there was no way he could beat a full house. "I bet five dollars."

Charlie seemed to study Carlisle before throwing a five-dollar bill into the pot. "I'll see your five dollars and I'll raise you five dollars." He threw a second five-dollar bill onto the desk.

Surprised that Charlie had raised the pot, Carlisle hesitated. He hadn't made a bet the entire round. _He's the Chief of Police – he's good at bluffing_. "All right." He pulled out his wallet. "I'll see your five dollars and raise you ten dollars."

Charlie's lip twitched. "This is Seven Card Stud, not checkers. You can't raise again."

Attempting to cover up the fact that he had not known that, Carlisle said in his most daring voice, "Come on. Between friends, we can certainly bend the rules a little, right?" Charlie was looking far too amused and smug for Carlisle's liking so on a whim he added, "Unless you don't have the, uh, _cards_, for that." He hoped that Charlie understood that he was using "cards" as a euphemism for "balls."

"All right. I'll see your ten dollars and raise you twenty dollars." Principal Benson let out a low whistle. For a game that was supposed to have a five dollar limit, this was getting pretty steep.

"Fine. I'll see your twenty dollars and raise you fifty dollars." Cullen men were never known to back down from a challenge.

Charlie rolled his eyes. "I'm the Chief of Police in _Forks_," he said patiently, as if he were explaining very simple math. "I do not have the luxury of ever having that much cash."

"Oh. Right," Carlisle said. "Never mind then, twenty dollars it is." Perhaps he was too excited for his own good as he flipped over his hidden cards to reveal his full house. He wasn't a particularly aggressive man, but something in Charlie brought out his competitive side.

"That's a good hand," Charlie conceded with a nod.

A smile crawled up on Carlisle's face as his eager hand twitched towards the winnings. The testosterone running unfiltered in his veins released the predator within, and his animalistic male nature let out a roar of victory.

"However, it doesn't beat four of a kind," Charlie said, revealing his pair of tens.

Damnit.

_**. . .**_

Despite the emotional toll this week had taken on him, Carlisle smiled politely at Rita Crowley, the woman running the nurse's station.

"Mrs. Thompson came by a few minutes ago and wanted to say thank you for calming her down," Rita said. "Hopefully she'll learn to differentiate between labor pains and indigestion."

"This is her first pregnancy and that can be a scary thing. All that matters is if I can give her peace of mind," Carlisle said. "Do we have the x-rays from the teenager with the broken leg yet?"

"Yep." The nurse handed Carlisle a clipboard with the patient's full medical record and the x-rays. "The chief's daughter is in bay two."

_The chief's daughter_? "The chief of what?" he asked, rejecting the conclusion his mind had already come to.

"Chief Swan," she clarified. "The Chief of Police. You know him, don't you?"

It felt as if the air had been knocked out of Carlisle. Snapshots of all the horrible ways Bella could have broken her leg started running through his head and he suddenly felt sick. Part of him said he shouldn't react so strongly. But the other, more prominent part of him was screaming that this was his family – the girl his son loved and would one day marry. She was his daughter in every way that mattered.

"Dr. Cullen? Are you all right?"

"Why didn't someone come get me?"

The nurse looked confounded at his harsh tone. "It isn't critical. She's young, non-pregnant, and perfectly healthy. It wasn't an emergency."

Carlisle was already shaking his head. "Let me be clear, Rita, with her it is _always_ an emergency." He was being unfair and irrational, but didn't care. Bella was lying injured in this hospital and nothing else mattered.

"Really she's perfectly-"

"Forget it." He was already running to bay two. No matter how often he repeated _non-critical, non-emergency, young, perfectly healthy_ in his mind, he couldn't get his racing heart to decelerate. He paused outside the bay, not wanting to barge in there hysterically; that would freak Bella out. He at least needed to appear calm and collected.

Taking one last deep breath, he stepped inside. "I heard the police chief's daughter was here." He was trying for suave, but it was more awkward than anything.

"That she is," Bella murmured from her hospital bed.

Charlie stood up from his chair and shook Carlisle's hand. "Doesn't it feel as if we just said good-bye?"

"Well, at least the kids keep us busy," Carlisle said. "How did she do it?"

"Tripped over a cash register."

"Right." To anyone else this explanation might seem odd. To Carlisle it made perfect sense, this was Bella after all.

"My leg has been broked," Bella said. "Broked by a cash register."

"The morphine seems to have kicked in quite quickly," Carlisle observed, as Charlie sat back down. "Bella, why don't you tell me about this cash register. What happened?" Carlisle walked over to his patient and pulled out a penlight to check how reactive her pupils were.

"That light looks like Edward's penny jar," she said.

Carlisle halted his movement. "Did you hit your head when you fell?"

"Nope."

"Are you sure about that?" His patients didn't normally start talking about penny jars unless they had sustained some kind of head injury.

"Yeppers. The cash register hit me leg. Hit me leg hard. But not as hard as Edward hit me heart."

At her statement an idea so horrible, so grotesque, and yet so appealing planted itself in Carlisle's mind. He knew it was wrong. He knew it was unethical. But he couldn't bring himself to stop. "I'm going to need to ask you some questions about your personal life while I finish checking your vitals."

"Why?"

"Because he needs to make sure your brain still works right," Charlie said, eagerly leaning forward. "You make sure to answer everything he asks."

"Okie dokie, artichokie."

Carlisle pushed all feelings of guilt aside. Hopefully she wouldn't remember this tomorrow. "Can you hear this?" he asked, rubbing his thumb and forefinger together near her ear.

"Yes."

"Very good. Did you bite your tongue when you fell?"

"Nope."

"Do you like _Lord of the Rings_?"

"Nope."

"Did you hurt your elbow when you fell?"

"Nope."

"Did you tell Edward that you don't like _Lord of the Rings_?"

"Yep."

"Did you ask Edward for your Evenstar back?"

"Absolutely not."

"Are you still working at MyT-Spot?"

"Oh, my God. I don't know!"

"Are you sexually active?" Charlie butt in.

"Ugh, Dad, no. We're only fourteen years old and Edward wants to wait until marriage. But that doesn't stop his thing from getting har-"

Charlie threw his hands over his ears. "Okay, okay, okay. I get it. Shut up."

There was a brief awkward silence in the room before Carlisle continued. "Did Edward break-up with you?"

"Yes," she answered immediately and then paused. "Maybe. I don't know. It was all very confusing."

"Was the break-up over _Harry Potter_ versus _Lord of the Rings_?"

"Well," she dragged out the word. "It depends on how you look at it."

"How do you look at it?" Carlisle asked impatiently.

"Harry Potter's hot. What's the big deal? I mean, it's not a complete departure. They both have green eyes like apples and green M&M's. They're like orbs of grassy wonder that make you want to lay down in a field or plough it. And Harry Potter has a scar just like Edward's scar. Except Edward's scar is just above his pee–"

"Bella, I don't-"

" –inky toe." Carlisle breathed a sigh of relief, glad she didn't seem aware of the _other_ scar.

"And they both wear glasses, even if Edward only needs his for reading. I don't care what people say, geek _is_ chic. And the way his hair frames his face, the way it feels when I run my fingers through it and he makes that purring noise that makes me want to pounce on him like a cat…"

As Bella continued to regale them of all the small things that she loved about Edward, the two men shared a look. They were sorry they asked.

_. . ._

Leaning against the doorway to the living room, Carlisle observed his son in quiet amusement. He was watching _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone_ with rapt attention.

After talking with Bella earlier that evening, he could better understand his son's hesitance in speaking about the break-up. Carlisle couldn't push him to talk, he just needed to be there for him. On a whim, he entered the room and sat down next to the young boy. Edward didn't ask him to leave, so Carlisle took this as a sign that he was allowed to stay. Neither of them spoke for quite some time, just watched the movie in silence.

_"__Harry, do you know why Professor Quirrell couldn't bear to have you touch him? It was because of your mother. She sacrificed herself for you and that kind of act leaves a mark. This kind of mark can not be seen. It lives in your very skin."_

"_What is it?"_

"_Love, Harry. Love." _

Edward groaned. "I don't get it. What is so great about this?"

"I hear the character has green eyes," Carlisle said under his breath.

"It's a complete knock off of _Lord of the Rings_ except with uninteresting characters and a boring plot. Who would read this?"

Carlisle smiled. His son had spoken to him; it was a miracle. "I have."

"_You_ have?"

"Yep, and I quite enjoyed the series as well. It has a few interesting themes running through it – loyalty, friendship, bravery. I have to admit, though, my favorite would have to be love. The author explores the love a parent feels for their child quite thoroughly."

Edward didn't respond to that, only slumped back onto the couch and pretended to continue watching the movie. Carlisle, however, was determined to make his son understand the significance of JK Rowling's message. "It's an interesting feeling – unconditional love. And something I think can only be found once you look into the eyes of your child for the first time."

"That's not true," Edward said defensively. "I feel that for Bella."

"Do you now? _Unconditional_ love?" Carlisle asked. "Because I heard a little rumor that you didn't like that Bella enjoyed _Harry Potter_ so much. Is that a condition for you? That she only likes the things that you enjoy?" Edward opened his mouth to respond but didn't find an excuse to counter his father's statement. "With your child, however, they could trash their bedroom, ignore you for days, get called to the principal's office, tell you to _fuck off_," Carlisle added for good measure, "and you still love them. You don't love them any less than you did the day before. As a matter of fact, you may find that you love them more regardless of all those things, because they need it more. That kind of love, Edward, is unconditional."

Edward didn't speak for several minutes as he thought about what his father had explained to him. "I made a mistake," he said, standing to leave the room.

"Where are you going?"

"To fix it. I need to make a phone call."

"Uh, Bella may not be up for a call this late at night," Carlisle said after a moment's hesitation. For obvious reasons, tonight was not the night for Edward to try and fix his broken relationship, but HIPAA prevented the doctor from divulging any information about Bella's recent trip to the hospital except to immediate family. Edward wasn't that yet.

"Dad, Bella dumped a root beer float on my head today. It's going to take a lot more than a phone call to fix this mess. I'm calling Angela."

Carlisle knew that look on Edward's face – he had something big up his sleeve. "Is there anything I can do to help? A trip to the flower store, perhaps?"

For the first time in days a small smile flitted across Edward's lips. "I appreciate the offer but I got it from here. Everything's going to be all right. I promise."

Carlisle nodded in understanding, a sweet sort of contentment settling over him. He had kept his silent vow to Esme and done everything in his power to help Edward. Now it was his son's turn to keep his promises.

"And Dad?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

_**. . .**_

Edward and Bella sat in a large white room that housed a piano. He was attempting to play her a song on the instrument but was hindered by Bella's refusal to let go of his left hand. Annoyed by the disjointed noises interrupting his work, Carlisle had left his office to seek out the source.

His wife was hidden in the hallway sneaking glances at the love-struck teens. "They are cute together, aren't they?" Esme whispered over the disorderly notes flowing from the piano.

The moment was made more perfect when, without a word, Bella slipped a necklace out of her hoodie front pocket and placed it in Edward's palm. Carlisle didn't need to see the trinket to know that a beautiful glass ornament hung from the silver chain. Bella's Evenstar, her heart, belonged only to his son.

Edward had gotten the gleam back in his eye. All was right with the world.

Dr. Carlisle Cullen was very lucky, indeed.

_**. . .**_

**A/N:** This outtake is a huge thank you to all of the reviewers! I really can not show my appreciation enough for the love and support this story has received. A huge thank you to **gkkstitch**, **squalloogal**, and **xsecretxkeeperx** for betaing this chapter and offering ENDLESS amounts of help!

Up Next... _Chapter Sixteen: The First Time She Said the A-Word_


	20. The First Time She Said the A Word

**An Introduction to Swirl and Daisy: The Non-Romantic Romance**

Disclaimer: Any Twilight characters that may appear in this story belong to Stephenie Meyer. The remainder is my original work. No reproduction is allowed without my written consent.

_Chapter Sixteen: The First Time She Said the A-word_

_**. . .**_

**Teen Beat Magazine**

April 2003

Edition #81, 170

_Yikes! Totally Embarrassing Moments_

_**. . .**_

**I Had Toilet Paper In My Skirt!**

"_I was going to dinner with my crush, so I was like, 'Okay, I must look cute.' So I wore this little mini-skirt and a really cute pink shirt. So I walk down the stairs to meet my date at the front door and he's looking at me all weird. Then, my mom comes up behind me and pulls TOILET PAPER out of my skirt that had gotten stuck there when I used the bathroom! It was a nightmare!"_

Kara C.  
Muskegun, MI

_**. . .**_

**My Crush Found My Love Letter!**

"_When I was younger, I had a crush on this guy. I was totally crushing hard. I wrote him this note professing my love and asking him to meet me at the flag pole after school if he was interested. I completely chickened out but months later, he became my best friend and found my letter buried in my text book! At first, I was absolutely mortified, but then he told me he loved me, too. We've been together almost four months and I couldn't be happier!_

Dorothy R.  
Richmond, CA

_**. . .**_

**My Boyfriend Is A Pervert!**

"_Before I start my story, I need to mention that my boyfriend and I run a website that sells t-shirts. I won't tell you what the website's name is, but let's just say that it's dirty. Except I didn't know it was dirty until the other day. My boyfriend and I were in his bedroom working on an art project…_

_**. . .**_

A shudder ran through my body as his long fingers slid down my thigh. "You've got to stop doing that."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Edward finished wiping the white paint off my leg and picked his brush up again. "Remember, you have to stay still or I'm going to _accidentally_ get paint on you."

He was so full of it; I knew his game. My body hadn't moved a centimeter and he wasn't messing up. Edward was always very precise with his artwork, as was proven by the gorgeous field of daisies he was painting on my cast. Yet, a few minutes later, there was another long streak of white paint up my thigh where Edward had "accidentally" missed my cast.

He took his time wiping the paint off, his fingers lingering on my leg. I once more found myself out of breath. "Edward?"

"Hmm?" He was completely focused on the patch of pale skin he was cleaning.

"Maybe I should wear shorts more often."

"Why do you say that?"

"You seem to like them a lot."

He lifted himself so he was eye level with me on the couch. "I love you," he said with a roguish smile, leaning in to kiss me.

_**. . .**_

…_We also may have been fooling around a little, and I decided it might be a good time to ask him some questions. He seems particularly susceptible to divulging information while his 'mind' is otherwise occupied…_

_**. . .**_

"Will you tell me what the daisies stand for?"

"Nope." He brushed my mouth with another kiss, and then dragged his lips down to my neck.

Damn. He most likely would not take the bait if he wouldn't even answer my warm-up question. Oh well, it was still worth a shot. "Well, if not the daisies, will you at least tell me about MyT-Spot?"

He stopped kissing my neck. Giving me an exasperated groan, he picked up his paint brush and went back to work on my cast. "How many times do I have to tell you that if you want to know, you're going to have to call your mom?"

"Why won't you just tell me? This is the same problem we had before we broke up, with the Elvish-"

"Trust me. This is very different."

"Our communication sucks. What's the deal?"

He pursed his lips and pretended to focus on the cast. "It wouldn't be appropriate."

"You just spent the better part of an hour feeling up my leg in your parents' house. Most of what we do is inappropriate. Tell me already."

The small smile that ghosted his lips told me that he had no intention of budging on this issue. "Nope. The portable phone is right behind you if you wish to place a call to your mother."

_**. . .**_

…_I was beyond frustrated when he wouldn't give up any of the info, especially since it had to do with the name of the website we work for, but he practically dared me to call my mom right in front of him. I don't think he thought I would do it because he looked petrified when I grabbed the phone and started dialing her number…_

_**. . .**_

"Hey, Mom, it's Bella!" Renee seemed as genuinely happy to hear from me as Edward seemed shocked that I was actually on the phone with her. "So, I'm sitting here with Edward, and he had a question that he was too embarrassed to ask you."

Edward's mouth popped open, and he started shaking his head in mortification, motioning for me to cut the call.

I let out a malicious snicker before saying, "He was wondering what the big deal with MyT-Spot was."

There was a pause on the other end of the phone and I couldn't help but smile in victory as Edward's face drained of all color. That was, until my mother corrected my "spelling" and proceeded to tell me _exactly_ why Edward should care for my, uh… _spot_. I felt the blood rush to my cheeks, my face taking on the same humiliated expression as Edward's.

"Okay, Mom, I have to go. I'll call you later," I said as she started going into details about… _stimulation_. I hung up the phone immediately, not quite able to look at Edward.

And then it hit me.

_**. . .**_

…_Let's just say, after the phone call, I understood why my boyfriend didn't want to answer my question. What I didn't understand is why he hadn't told me to call my mom sooner! I've been walking around town for YEARS talking about this website that I work for and it turns out the name is totally dirty! And the worst part is it was his GRANDMOTHER that suggested the name in the first place!… _

_. . ._

How many times had I told Dr. Cullen that we'd be up in Edward's room working on MyT-Spot? How many times had I mentioned to Esme that MyT-Spot was a two-person job? How many thousands of times had I mentioned MyT-Spot to other people at school?

Oh my God… A few weeks ago, Mike Newton had offered to help me with…

And I had told him I appreciated the offer.

"ASSHOLE!" I exclaimed, burying my face in a couch pillow, equally frustrated and mortified. The awkward silence resumed as my mind continued to calculate all of the moments I had unintentionally humiliated myself.

"If it helps Bella, I'm just as embarrassed as you are."

_**. . .**_

…_Needless to say, I'm NEVER letting my boyfriend or his family members have a part in choosing the name of any future business ventures."_

_Rebecca S.  
Forks, Washington_

_**. . .**_

**A/N: **Thank you so much to the magnificent **Just4ALE**, the wonderful **Squalloogal**, and amazing **xsecretxkeeperx** for betaing this chapter! Also to **AltheaJams**, **Profitina**, and **Whyuh**, the lovely ladies who pre-read for me. Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, alerted and favorited this story - I appreciate it so much!

Up Next.. _Chapter Seventeen: A Farewell to Ninth Grade: 2002-2003_


	21. A Farewell to Ninth Grade 2002 2003

**An Introduction to Swirl and Daisy: The Non-Romantic Romance**

Disclaimer: Any Twilight characters that may appear in this story belong to Stephenie Meyer. The remainder is my original work. No reproduction is allowed without my written consent.

_Chapter Seventeen: A Farewell to Ninth Grade 2002-2003_

_**. . .**_

It felt ominous being in the auditorium after the school had closed, even if I was surrounded by the cast and crew of _Cinderella_, and a few losers who had nothing better to do with their lives than crash our after-party (which was pretty much everyone – this was Forks after all)._ Cinderella_ had been the perfect ending to a most disastrous school year. Not an hour before, we had given our final performance in this theater and I couldn't be happier it was over.

I'd gotten my cast removed in early May, which gave me only a few weeks to learn all the dance moves the other students had been working on for two months. I was wobbly on my feet, but Edward was always there to catch me if I fell. And to get me a snack if I was hungry. And to grab me a sweater if I was cold. And to do my math homework.

Okay, he didn't really do my math homework (all the time), but he was the perfect boyfriend. After our break-up, he seemed determined to make me fall more in love with him than ever. As if that was possible. For instance, he ordered _Harry Potter_ stuff to put in my room. Nothing with Daniel Radcliffe's face on it, of course, but a full-size poster of the _Goblet of Fire_ book cover and a wizard's chess set.

In return, I showed him how much I appreciated the effort he was making. Let's just say there were _many_ trips to the Cullen's movie room made, and whenever we left, Edward had a goofy grin on his face.

I grudgingly had to admit that the play itself wasn't too bad. As King and Queen, Edward and I had to wear hideous make-up meant to make us look older, with grey streaks in our hair. None of that mattered once we were on stage, though. With strong arms and steady feet, Edward had led me gracefully around the dance floor. He never once tore his eyes away from mine and with him looking at me like that, I didn't care that the crowd was watching. At the end of our dance number, he leaned in and kissed me (something that was definitely _not_ in the script).

That wasn't even the best part of the play. Alice had to kiss Eric Yorkie. Multiple times. On the lips.

It. Was. Awesome.

And also a little wrong. Every time Eric would go in for the kill, Alice would scrunch up her nose and make her lips as thin as possible. As a joke, Eric tried to slip her the tongue once or twice. Or maybe it wasn't a joke. You never knew with Eric.

Angela, one of the many gatecrashers at the _Cinderella_ after-party, walked up to me with a light step and glowing eyes. "What are you giggling about?" I asked.

"Oh, Ben's just being Ben. He's so amazing."

"What was it now? A hug? A peck on the cheek?" That relationship was moving along at the pace of a dying snail. Both of them were too shy for their own good, and despite my constant repeats of the same lines Angela always fed me, she didn't seem inclined to take her own advice.

She made a caustic face and turned back to the party. One wall of the auditorium was lined with tables that held plenty of cookies, chips, and soda to accommodate most of the Forks High population. People filtered in and out of the large room, signing yearbooks, snapping pictures, and chatting with their friends.

"Where's Edward?" Angela asked.

"I think he's getting changed out of his costume. He'll be here in a minute," I said. "In the meantime, I think I'm going to get my yearbook signed. This will probably be our last chance." It was eleven now and the party ended at midnight. Mrs. McCrae was shooting for some kind of corresponding symbolism between our play and the party.

Angela agreed and pulled the large, bulky book out of her bag. High school yearbooks were larger than middle school ones, but I guess it was fitting that they were – after all, we were playing on a bigger stage now.

_**. . .**_

_Yo Bella,_

_It's been really great knowing you these past few years.  
__Theater waz the best!  
__I hope to see you next year!  
__Stay cool, stay in school, and don't do drugs!_

_See ya later,  
__Eric_

_P.S. Keep this signature! I could be famous!  
_

_AIM: theaterplaya88  
__Yahoo: kisszaprince88  
__MSA: urprincecharming88  
__e-mail: eric_yorkie(at)netscape(dot)com_

_**.**_

_Hey Eric,  
__You did an __amazing__ job as Prince Charming.  
__I hope you get the lead in every play you're in.  
__Have a nice summer.  
__Bella_

_**.**_

_-Bella-  
__What's up?  
__Ya know what I love about you?  
__You have amazing sense of style… I just love it!  
__Have a tight summer!  
_

_-luvs ya-  
__Lauren  
__555-4183_

_**.**_

_Lauren,  
__Have a great summer.  
__Bella_

_**.**_

_Bella:_

_Great year, huh?  
__I hope next year will be as good.  
__Have a great summer. I hope to see  
__you at the HP convention in Seattle  
__with Angela and Edward._

_Ben Cheney  
__555-0396_

_**.**_

_Hey Ben,  
__The HP convention is going to be  
__awesome. Still working on convincing  
__Edward to go. But I have my ways. ;)  
__Bella_

_**.**_

_hiyas!_

_musical theater was a ton better because you were in it!  
__you brighten the room & r __sooo__ spirity!  
_

_anyway, hope your summer rocks in stereo!  
__w/ luv,  
__Jessica_

_**.**_

_Hey Jessica,  
__Have an awesome summer.  
__Bella_

_**.**_

_~Bella ~  
__I hope ya had a good year!  
__Have a great summer. I hope  
__to see you next year!  
__~Katie Marshall~ _

_**.**_

_Hey Katie,  
__Have a fantastic summer.  
__Bella_

_**.**_

_Bella,  
_

_The cow goes moo._

_Call me if you need me again: 555-3826_

_Michael Newton  
__P.S. Remember, Emus solve the world's problems.  
__EMU!_

_**.**_

_Michael,  
__What is there to say?  
__Bella_

_**.**_

_Weed is fun.  
__Weed is great.  
__And I think I forgot the rest.  
__No… Weed's the best!_

_Tyler_

_**.**_

_Tyler,  
__You may want to lay off that a bit.  
__Have an amazing summer.  
__Bella_

_**.**_

_(-: Happy face of doom! -Connor_

_**.**_

_Have a remarkable summer.  
__Bella_

_**.**_

_Hey Bella!  
__Musical Theater was fun b/c you were there  
__but kinda sucked b/c of Mrs. McCrae._

_You are so sweet, stay that way!_

_Luv ya!  
__Samantha  
__555-1635_

_**.**_

_Hey Samantha,  
__Have a splendid summer.  
__Bella_

_**.**_

_Bella! Dudester!  
__Why doesn't glue stick to the inside of the bottle? _

_Emmett_

_**.**_

_Use Google. Trust me.  
__Have an astounding summer.  
__Bella_

_**.**_

_Rosalie Hale_

_**.**_

_Your highness,  
__Have a stupendous summer.  
__Bella_

_**.**_

_Likewise, moron.  
__Rosalie Hale (revised)_

_**.**_

_Bella,_

_I don't really know you or talk to you  
__but you seem cool. It was a pleasure  
__meeting you._

_Until next year!  
__Jasper Whitlock_

_**.**_

_Hey Jasper,_

_Don't worry, I don't think anyone else  
__noticed when you "accidentally" dropped that  
__piece of plywood and broke one of Alice's  
__glass slippers._

_Thank you for all the hard work you put  
__into making the props and set for Cinderella.  
__You were definitely an __invaluable__ asset  
__to the crew._

_Bella_

_**.**_

_hey girl!_

_Geez! Thank you SO much for being such a great friend to me this year!  
__You are SO awesome!  
__I hope we can be friends forever and ever! =)!  
__We needa hang out this summer. Seriously! Go HPcon 2003!  
__You're a really great person to talk to! Gotta go!_

_Luv ya bunches!_

_Cynthia Kay Brandon  
__555-9532  
__Cynthiakay(at)hotmail(dot)com_

_._

_Hey Cynthia,  
__It's been fun getting to know you over lunch.  
__You're going to the HP convention? How thrilling.  
__Bella_

_**.**_

_Hey Angela,  
__I don't feel as if I need to say much  
__since you're my BFF and know  
__everything anyway. I'm psyched__ for  
the summer – we have to get Edward  
__to that HP convention!  
__Bella_

_**.**_

_Bella,  
__Don't worry, we're definitely getting him there.  
__Speaking of Edward, here comes your prince charming now.  
__What's with the daisies?  
__Angela_

_**. . .**_

I looked up to see Edward changed out of his costume and holding a bouquet of daisies. Instead of looking weird with the streaks of grey still in his hair, he looked refined. Kind of like Dr. Cullen. Huh.

"These are for you." He placed the bouquet in my arms. "For a brilliant performance and only tripping on the stage once. And even then, it was a tiny stumble. Hardly noticeable."

I pouted, grumbling, "I didn't think anyone had noticed that."

Edward laughed and placed a kiss on my forehead. "Maybe no one else did. But I believe I have acquired a sixth sense – one that is acutely aware of every move you make. It comes with being in love with you, I think."

My heart fluttered as it always did when he told me he loved me. I would never get tired of hearing that.

"Actually, I also saw the stumble, and I don't have weird Bella spidey-senses," Angela said. I glared at her for ruining a perfect moment. She held up her hands. "You can't honestly expect me to be quiet with Edward spewing out such cheesy lines. Really, I'm trying to save him from himself. You know what? I'll be over there with Ben."

Edward seemed more amused than insulted by Angela's comment. I smiled. "Thank you for the flowers. They're beautiful."

"As are you."

"Yeah, I'm sure I look real hot right now. Is it the grey hair that does it for you?"

He chuckled and swept a piece of grey behind my ear. "At least I know that when we're old and grey you're still going to be good-looking."

"Old and grey?"

"Yeah, in forty or fifty years," he said. "I do expect some inevitable aging – wrinkles, possible crow's feet, _drooping_." He waggled his eyebrows.

Should I be ecstatic that Edward had hinted he still expected us to be together in forty years or completely disgusted that he was imagining me with "drooping" body parts? "You think about that kind of stuff?"

It was his turn to look surprised, and maybe a little panicked. "You don't?"

"Not really," I said, trying to decipher his tiny note of hysteria.

"Oh," he said, disappointment rampant in his voice. Why did boys have to be so complicated? "So, ready to get this show on the road?" he asked, passing me his yearbook and attempting to reestablish our lighthearted fun. "We only have about 20 minutes before the party's over and I'm not sure that's going to be enough time to finish signing your yearbook."

Edward always took his yearbook signing so seriously. Perhaps it was a byproduct of being a yearbook teacher's son, or just one of his many quirks. "Yep. Let's do this thing."

_**. . .**_

_June 6, 2003_

_My dearest Hermione,_

_This has been a year of ups and downs for me. Our break-up was, without a doubt, the most wretched and horrible week of my life. And yet, it led to the best moment of my existence to date – when you uttered the three words I most wanted to hear._

_I love you._

_I believe Albus Dumbledore summed it up best when he said,_

"If there is one thing Voldemort cannot understand, it is love. He didn't realize that love as powerful as your mother's for you leaves its own mark. Not a scar, no visible sign… to have been loved so deeply, even though the person who loved us is gone, will give us some protection forever. It is in your very skin."

_I know our circumstances are quite different. After all, neither of us is dead and you are certainly not my mother (thank God), but the principle is the same. Every time I catch you looking at me a certain way or you murmur my name with a quiet admiration, with every touch and every kiss, that invisible mark you have left on me grows even deeper._

_And when you tell me you love me, my heart feels as if it is going to explode because you say it with such genuine sincerity that I know it has to be true. _

_I can not find it within me to regret anything that has happened in the past year, because it has led us to where we are today. I feel closer to you than ever before and my faith in us is stronger because of the events that brought us here. _

_Words can not express how much I love you._

_Sincerely,  
__Your Harry Potter (aka: Swirl)_

_**.**_

_Edward,_

_For most, freshman year is about finding where they belong in a new school and getting a glimpse of what the future holds._

_I'm the lucky one. I've always known that I belong with you. And even though I don't necessarily think of the specifics (like crow's feet and drooping), I know that __**you**__ are my future. _

_I love you,  
__Bella_

_P.S. I appreciate the effort, really I do. But Harry Potter and Hermione Granger do NOT end up together. Clearly, Ron loves Hermione and she loves him back. How could you think otherwise?_

_**. . .**_

**A/N: **Thank you so much to **Just4ALE**, **Squalloogal**, and **xsecretxkeeperx** for betaing this chapter and to Whyuh for pre-reading! Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, alerted, or favorited this story!

Up Next... _Chapter Eighteen: The First Time She Knew He Was Missing Something_


	22. TFT She Knew He Was Missing Something

**An Introduction to Swirl and Daisy: The Non-Romantic Romance**

Disclaimer: Any Twilight characters that may appear in this story belong to Stephenie Meyer. The remainder is my original work. No reproduction is allowed without my written consent.

_Chapter Eighteen: The First Time She Knew He Was Missing Something_

**. . .**

It was the day before the two-year anniversary of the day we met, and Edward and I were lounging on his back porch, once more soaking up the last bit of sunshine Forks had to offer. We had already started our sophomore year of school, and I loved Saturdays like this when we could laze around, enjoying each other's company. We weren't talking, not really anyways. My head was in his lap, and he was softly brushing my hair with his fingers as he read aloud from _Pride and Prejudice_.

"'_I certainly have not the talent which some people possess,' said Darcy, 'of conversing easily with those I have never seen before. I cannot catch their tone of conversation, or appear interested in their concerns, as I often see done.'_

"'_My fingers,' said Elizabeth, 'do not move over this instrument in the masterly manner which I see so many women's do,'"_ Edward read, raising his octave to adopt a women's cadence. I loved it when he did voices, especially female. Swirl's voice as a girl's voice — it made me giggle (and it rhymed).

"_Darcy smiled and said, 'You are perfectly right. You have employed your time much better. No one admitted to the privilege of hearing you can think anything wanting. We neither of us perform to strangers.'"_

Not even the fact that _Pride and Prejudice_ was required reading for our sophomore year could make me not love this book, especially considering how Edward would look down at me whenever he read a particularly squeal-worthy line of Darcy's, or how his tongue would curl around the words like a soft spoken caress. Damn, Edward's tongue. I loved his tongue. Edward could be blind, deaf, or mute as long as he still knew how to use his tongue. He was truly talented. The way he dipped and rolled set my spine tingling, drove me to the point of ecstasy, and when I closed my eyes all I could see was stars.

Yeah, Edward was a great kisser.

"_'Elizabeth looked at Darcy to see how cordially he assented to his cousin's praise.' _And then Mr. Darcy threw an apple at Lizzie's head and told her to pay attention."

"Hmm? What was that last part?" I asked.

"You're not paying attention."

"Of course I am."

"I think I've known you long enough to tell when you aren't. What were you thinking about?"

"Your tongue." We'd been going out far too long to be shy about these things.

He closed the book and set it aside. "Oh, really now?"

"Really," I said.

He leaned down and I readied myself for another perfect kiss with the boy I loved. My heart pounded harder, as it always did in such moments, and my eyes closed. Just before he reached my mouth, though, he hesitated. "I have a surprise for you," he whispered, his lips brushing mine.

"The surprise regards your tongue, right?" I sat forward in an attempt to press our lips together, but he laughed and stood up, pulling me along and leading me down to the mossy forest that surrounded his house. This was not a good idea. In fact, it was a very _bad _idea. As if I weren't enough of a safety hazard to begin with, I was wearing flip-flops, not the best attire for an afternoon frolicking in the forest. "It's not far away, I promise," he said. "However, I will have to insist that you wear this." A bright red and white bandanna was in his hand.

"What would possess you to think I'd ever wear that?" I crinkled my nose. "Bandannas went out of style in eighth grade."

He turned me around and tied the cloth over my eyes. "It's so you can't see the surprise, silly girl. Trust me. I won't let go until we're there." I wouldn't have allowed anyone else in the world to blindly guide me into a forest, but the strength of Edward's warm hand reassured me that he would never let me fall.

We walked a short distance, Edward muttering directions so I didn't hurt myself as he steered me through the trees and uneven terrain. When we arrived at our destination, he stopped me from yanking off the bandanna. "Give me a minute to explain something before I show you," he said, holding both my hands now.

I didn't like not knowing where I was or what was going on, but Edward clearly wanted this to be special. "Okay." I gave his hands a squeeze.

"It's coming up on two years since we met," he said, "and yet I still remember every detail of that day with perfect clarity. There was never a doubt in my mind that you were The One—"

"Really? Not even when I went all Barbie doll and started dressing like Alice Brandon?" I'd always been curious on this point. He had thoroughly ignored me after my mini-transformation and, in my opinion, acted like an unmitigated douche until I changed back.

"Nope, I didn't doubt it even then," he said.

"I wish I could see the look on your face right now so I could tell if you're lying."

He chuckled lightheartedly. "I'll admit you did have me worried for a couple days. You wore so much make-up I thought I'd never get to see this again." He released one of my hands to brush a finger over my cheek; it warmed to the soft touch. "But no matter. You found your way back to me, and if you hadn't, I would have worked around it. Even with that ghastly make-up, you were still more beautiful than every girl in school."

My eyes rolled before I remembered he couldn't see it. "Eye roll," I mumbled and he laughed.

"Anyways, when we were first getting to know each other, I asked you what you missed most about living outside of Forks. Do you remember what you told me?"

After wracking my brain for a few moments, I came up empty. "Not having to do the dishes every night?"

"You said you missed Autumn."

"That doesn't make sense. We have Fall in Forks," I said, trying to recall that conversation. I should have known Edward would never forget something about me, even when I had forgotten it about myself.

"That's what I said at the time. But then you pointed out that even in Autumn, everything remains green in Forks or turns an ugly brown. What you missed were the colors of Autumn, the way the leaves would change to the most brilliant shades of orange and red and how perfectly they would fall at the peak of their life."

"I was very articulate for a twelve year old."

"You were thirteen at this point."

"Whatever."

He lifted the handkerchief from my eyes, and I gasped at the sight in front of me. He had led me to a small clearing in the forest, but it didn't look like we were in Forks, Washington, anymore. It felt like we had stepped through a magical wardrobe into a different world. The entire floor of the clearing was littered with leaves — piles and piles of leaves. Not the nettled leaves one would normally find on the Olympic Peninsula, but rather Fall leaves in perfect shades of red, orange, and yellow. It was almost as if every leaf in Washington had fallen lightly to the ground at the pinnacle of its ripeness and floated to this one place.

All of this was eclipsed, though, by an easel in the middle of the foliage with a large portrait placed upon it. I stumbled through the colorful mounds, my eyes aching to take in every detail of the beautiful painting up close. Edward had painted us, in this moment, the Fall leaves surrounding us as I looked at a portrait and he stood a few steps behind observing the scene.

It wasn't the way Edward had flawlessly contrasted the myrtle green of the trees with the reds and yellows of Fall or how he captured the blush on my cheeks perfectly without making me look like a tomato that held my attention so thoroughly. It was the look in his eyes. It was the look of a thirsty man searching for water or a voyager seeing home for the first time in a year. It was raw and passion and love and adoration, and I was speechless because he was looking at _me_ like that.

My eyes welled with tears as I turned to face Edward. He loved me with all his heart and soul, put everything he had into creating this for me, and I was completely and utterly spellbound. "H-how?" I asked.

He ran a hand through his hair. Briefly, the thought crossed my mind how flawlessly the shade of Edward's hair would blend with the surrounding colors if he was sprawled out amongst the leaves… naked. "I, uh, met a kid from Colorado," he said, nervous for some incomprehensible reason, "in my LotR RPG forum. And I paid him to rake up and ship out all the leaves that had already fallen down at his ranch…"

"No, I meant how did you become such a good artist?"

He looked surprised by my question at first, then a smirk stretched onto his face (which I had a sudden desire to lick). "What? You're saying I wasn't a good artist before?"

"You know what I mean. It's always been doodles and sketches and stuff. But this," I turned back to the portrait, "this could go in a museum."

The leaves crunched under his feet as he walked up behind me. He placed his arms around my waist and his chin on my shoulder. "Well, I'm no Da Vinci, but I was kind of hoping we could put it up in your bedroom for now. And then one day, I think it will make a lovely addition to our bedroom."

I hummed my agreement as he placed a soft kiss on my neck. I always loved it when he talked about our future like it was a sure thing.

"And so," he said between kisses, "when we leave here in a couple hours—"

"A couple hours? It's going to get cold."

"Trust me, I have no intention of letting you get cold." Goosebumps rose on my arms that had nothing to do with the weather. "As I was saying before your rude, unnecessary objection," he said, a smile in his voice, "when we leave here in a couple hours, I will be more than happy to take down that one poster in your bedroom and replace it with this."

"Edward Cullen, you wouldn't happen to be talking about my _Harry Potter_ poster, would you?"

"Well, I personally think that this will go much better with the color scheme in your bedroom."

I whipped around to face him. He had a broad smile and a twinkle in his eye. "You better be careful, buddy, or I'll keep that _Harry Potter_ poster for when we move in together."

"You wouldn't dare," he said in a mockingly dangerous voice.

"Oh, I think I would," I said in the same tone, taking a step away from him.

"Would not." He took a step toward me.

"Oh, I totally would." I stepped back again.

"Would not." This time when he stepped forward, a predatorial gleam that made me lose all train of thought settled in his eyes. What were we arguing about again? He pounced then, and I dodged him in an incredibly graceful move I didn't know I had in me. That was, until I slipped on some leaves and fell down to the ground.

Edward burst out into laughter as I stood and tried to shake the leaves loose of my clothing. "The-the l-look on your f-face..." He pointed at me, his hand shaking with the beats of his laughter.

Without thinking, I grabbed a handful of leaves off the ground and threw it at him. He stopped laughing immediately, shocked, I'm sure, that the leaves had managed to hit him straight in the face. I only had time to register how cute he looked with little twigs in his hair before he lunged again.

He just managed to miss me and I made to run for the opening in the trees. He easily caught up and grabbed my wrist. "And where are you going, little girl?"

In response, I forcefully jerked my arm from his hand and it actually gave way. He lost his balance and produced a rather loud, high-pitched yelp as he fell backwards into the leaves.

"Oh my God! You screamed like a girl!" I reached down for another handful of leaves.

"I will have you know, I have a very manly scream," he said, leaping out of the leaves and charging toward me before I had the chance to throw more at him.

He knocked me down to the ground with him, making sure that he got the brunt of the hit, before rolling over on top of me and saying, "Tell me I have a manly scream."

"Never!" I squealed in delight.

"Tell me I have a manly scream or else!"

"Or else, what?"

He glanced down to my lips and became serious. "Say it or else I won't kiss you."

"Then I wouldn't dare say it," I said.

"You don't want me to kiss you?"

"If there's one thing I know about Edward Anthony Cullen, it's that he could never resist the chance to kiss me," I said. "I'll bet my life savings that I won't have to wait another ten seconds before you give in."

He seemed to have a brief internal debate, wherein his eyes flickered between my eyes and my mouth. "Damn it, you're right." He bent down to kiss me.

"Seriously though," I said, pulling away, "how did you get so good at painting?"

He smiled that amazing crooked smile — the one he reserved only for me — and said, "I've been working on that portrait for the past two years. I think it would be more shocking if it wasn't any good."

I giggled at his response, feeling content and confidant and loved with his body weight settled so satisfactorily on mine, and I didn't stop him this time when he expertly dipped his head and nudged apart my lips.

Yep. My boyfriend had an amazing tongue.

**. . .**

Sophomore year of high school was going much better than the previous year. For starters, Edward and I had several more classes together. And not being a freshman came with certain privileges, like not having the animosity of the entire upper class focused solely on us. Instead, I was finding it rather fun to join in.

"Ugh. How much do you hate freshmen?" I asked as Edward and I walked the aisles of the town pet shop. We were looking for mice, a mandatory purchase for our biology class.

"Might I point out that you were a freshmen not long ago?" he asked.

"Look, as an official sophomore in high school and at the age of almost fifteen, I can admit with absolute conviction that I was a complete and total moron in my youth."

"In your youth?" Edward said, amused. "You talk like you're ninety years old."

"I just mean_,_ I can't imagine how annoying I came off to other people if I acted half as idiotic as the new freshmen do. They are so irritating! They walk around the school as if they own the place."

"Yes. I am disappointed they've infiltrated our favorite, uh, _studying_ spot," he said. "I have some fond memories from behind that soda machine."

"Exactly. No respect whatsoever," I said.

Arriving at the mouse aisle, we started collecting the necessary supplies we'd need to keep our mice functioning — food, cage, thermos, etcetera. For our project in Biology, we'd need two mice to conduct experiments on over the next quarter. Soon all that was left was to pick out which of the little critters we wanted.

I peered into the glass where dozens of them were running around. "Oh, look at them! They are so cute!"

"You think these things are cute?" Edward asked, frowning.

"Of course they are!" I scoured the cage, trying to decide which ones I wanted. "Don't you?"

When he didn't answered, I looked up. He had a slight scowl on his face. "They're very… dirty."

I laughed at his expression. "Aw, Edward. Are you afraid of the itty, bitty, dirty mice?"

"No, I'm not afraid," he said. "But that doesn't mean I want to touch them."

"Really? 'Cause I think you're a little scaredy cat. Which is ironic, seeing as these are mice. Get it?"

Edward smiled. "Can you just pick the ones you want so we can get out of here?"

"All right. Know that I still love you even if you are a scaredy cat."

"I'm not—"

"Shh! Don't break my concentration. I'm trying to decide here." I looked intently at the large cage for about a minute or so, before picking out the two I knew would be perfect for us. Edward cringed as I fearlessly stuck my hand in the cage and pulled out an adorable little, white mouse with light grey spots. "This shall be Miss Elizabeth Bennet," I said, putting the tiny mouse into the cage Edward was holding. "And this," I pulled out a second larger, black mouse, "shall be Mr. Darcy."

Edward shook his head. "Nope. You remember what Mr. Banner said: All the mice have to be the same gender to prevent rodent offspring."

"Oh, stop being so dramatic. They are the same gender, see?" I pointed to a sign that read, _Female Mice - $5_.

"You're going to name a girl mouse Mr. Darcy?"

"What's wrong with that? It's not as if she knows she's got a man's name. And it has a certain dramatic flair, don't you think?"

Edward, clearly amused, said, "I love you. But don't think you're going to touch me again until after you've thoroughly washed your hands."

My head jerked back at his insolence. "You are such an arse! How dare—"

"Yo! Edward, buddy!" a voice called from down the aisle, saving Edward from the verbal beating I was about to impart. We both turned to find the hulking figure of Emmett McCarty walking toward us. "I haven't talked to you in ages!" he said when he reached us. "What have you been up too? Kicking anyone's ass at school lately?"

"Unless you mean kicking ass with my grades, then no," Edward said. "I haven't had the need to."

"What did I tell you man? _Legendary_." Emmett waggled his eyebrows and punched Edward on the shoulder. I was thoroughly confused.

"Have you met my girlfriend, Bella?" Edward asked. I got the feeling he wanted to change the subject.

"I've seen her around." Emmett held out his hand. "It's nice to officially meet you, Bella."

"You, as well." I shook his hand firmly and noted Edward's cringe at my unwashed hand. It wasn't often I got to see Edward interact with other friends. I hadn't even known he and Emmett were on a first name basis. I found it thoroughly fascinating. "Are you here to pick up your mice for Biology?"

"Sure am." Emmett grabbed a cage from the shelf behind him and unceremoniously picked two mice at random. "Rose refuses to touch the cute, little critters. Such a girl," he said with a fond smile.

Edward looked offended. "They're dirty."

"So are a lot of things," Emmett said, an added snicker keeping it lighthearted.

"Have you decided what you're going to name them?" I asked, searching for a topic of conversation that wouldn't make my boyfriend look like a pansy. So far I liked Emmett, and I thought it'd be nice if the two of them could hang out more often.

"Yep. I'm thinking Pinky and The Brain in honor of the old-school cartoons kids these days don't seem interested in watching."

"That's pretty much brilliant, don't you think, Edward?" I gave him a nudge of encouragement.

"Sure," Edward said slowly. "Though, I'm not sure I get it. Pinky and The Brain?"

"Dude, don't you watch TV?"

"I prefer books," said Edward, notably leaving out his love for old musicals.

"But didn't you watch TV when you were a kid? It's Pinky and The Brain, man!"

Edward shrugged. "I was probably making paper airplanes with my dad the day it was on. Now _that_ is a lost form of art, one that is too often overlooked."

Emmett hesitated. "And the saddest part of that sentence is that I can't tell if you're joking or being completely serious."

I felt a pang of annoyance at that statement. Sure, Edward was a little socially awkward, but if Emmett was making fun of my boyfriend, I would kick him so hard his balls would fall off. I didn't care if he was three times my size.

Fortunately for him, Emmett said, "Well, anyways, I better be off. Bella, it's a pleasure. Edward, buddy, I'll see you in Biology." He held out a fist to Edward, who again looked at him like he was crazy. I wished Edward would suck it up and do the damn man thing, even if Emmett had touched some dirty mice. "Dude, don't leave me hangin' here," Emmett joked good-naturedly.

Edward, clearly uncomfortable, also held out his fist… but made no move to connect it with Emmett's. It dawned on me that it might not have been the lack of hygiene that was preventing him from proceeding with the common ritual. "You're supposed to bump it," I whispered to him as quietly as I could.

"But why?" he whispered back.

"It's a sign of solidarity amongst brothers," Emmett said. "Here, let me show you." I stood by awkwardly as he demonstrated a rather extravagant hand-bump-shake-thing, ending with a sort of one-shouldered hug. Afterward, he gave one last wave good-bye, paid for his supplies, and left.

Double-checking to make sure we had everything, and that Mr. Darcy and Miss Elizabeth Bennet were secure in their brand new cage, we headed up to the register. "Edward, do you ever wish you had more friends?" I asked, hoping he wouldn't be offended.

"What do you mean? I have all the friends I need. I've got my father and, I suppose, your father too if I want to hang out with the guys. But most importantly I have you. You're the best friend I could ever ask for."

I smiled weakly at his answer. "But don't you ever feel like you want to hang out with guys your own age? I mean, if I didn't have Angela I think I'd miss out on a lot of stuff."

"If bumping fists and watching cartoons is what I'm missing out on, then I don't feel I'm missing anything at all. My dad's waiting for us. We'd better hurry."

As Dr. Cullen drove us home, I reflected over the conversation we'd had with Emmett. I had always known Edward was sort of a recluse before we met. But since he'd obviously grown comfortable with me over the past two years, and I suppose with Angela and my dad by default, I'd always assumed that he had relaxed around everyone else. Clearly, I was wrong.

I wondered now what every day life was like for Edward when I wasn't around. Did people make fun of him? Tease him? Ignore him? What would his life have been like if I'd never come to Forks? Would he still be the same as he was in Middle School? Isolated and lonely? My heart broke at the idea.

Something had to be done. If anything were to happen to me, I would never forgive myself for leaving him alone and friendless.

Perhaps he didn't realize it now, but what Edward needed was a boyfriend.

Or… maybe just a friend who was a boy.

**. . .**

**A/N:** A huge thank you to my beta **xsecretxkeeperx** for talking with me on the phone for hours while we worked on my writing and for being an overall amazing person and friend. And to everyone who reviewed, tweeted, Skyped, G-chatted, or PM'd me with words of encouragement - you know who you are - I appreciate it more than words can say.

Up Next... _Chapter Nineteen: The First Time He Made a Friend_


	23. The First Time He Made a Friend

**An Introduction to Swirl and Daisy: The Non-Romantic Romance**

Disclaimer: Any Twilight characters that may appear in this story belong to Stephenie Meyer. The remainder is my original work. No reproduction is allowed without my written consent.

_Chapter Nineteen: The First Time He Made a Friend_

**. . .**

I tore a piece of paper out of my notebook. _Angela! The Sociology project is the perfect opportunity to get Edward to meet some guys!_

Waiting until Mr. Marcus, our Sociology teacher, was on the other side of the room, I snuck the note onto Angela's desk. It was essential not to get caught; Mr. Marcus was infamous for reading confiscated notes out loud to the entire class.

She tucked the paper under her desk and read it, still appearing as if she was paying attention to the lesson. When Mr. Marcus turned his back to us again, she scribbled a quick reply and covertly passed it back to me.

**How do you suppose?**

_We have to interview three people anyway, right? Why not invite some boys to our table for lunch to do the interviews? They can talk with Edward and presto! We've made a love connection._ I giggled quietly at my own joke. _So how about it?_

**You don't think Edward will be mad that you're setting him up?**

_Who says he has to know? It's the only shot I've got at giving him a normal life. We have to do it!_

**Okay, who did you have in mind?**

_What do you think of Emmett McCarty? He said hi to Edward and me the other day at the pet shop. They seemed friendly._

**Not sure that's a good idea**, I was flabbergasted to read,** Emmett and Rosalie broke up again. Probably not the best time for Edward and him to get together. **

Just a couple days ago, I'd witnessed Emmett smiling fondly at Rosalie's squeamishness._ What happened?_

**I'm not sure of the particulars, but I heard it had something to do with Emmett teasing her about not touching their mice.**

Did those two break-up over everything?_ Okay, well, what about Ben? You know him better than most people. Do you think he'd be int_

"What have we here, Ms. Swan?" Mr. Marcus pulled the paper out of my grasp with a swift tug. "Writing notes in class?"

"Um, no," I said meekly, knowing it was already too late.

"Then this isn't something you'd mind sharing with the rest of the class?"

The other students sat forward on the edge of their seats. Angela looked like she wanted to puke. "Please don't," I begged.

"Angela!" he read animatedly, and I felt like dying. "The Sociology project is a perfect opportunity to get Edward to—" He stopped, his face turning a faint shade of green. After scanning the note, he asked, "Isn't Mr. Cullen your boyfriend?"

I nodded, praying that he wouldn't read the rest for fear of "outing" Edward to the entire school (even if he wasn't actually gay).

Mr. Marcus debated for another moment — the longest moment of my life. "Teenagers," he grumbled, stuffing the note into his pocket. The class sagged, disappointed, while I let out a sigh of relief. Angela and I would just have to work on our little project later.

**. . .**

After compiling a list of male students we thought might be a good match for Edward, and informing him that we would need to ask a few people to eat lunch with us over the next couple of months (for purely academic purposes, of course), Angela and I set to work. Naturally, we started with Ben Cheney. Since he and Angela were in the early stages of developing a romantic relationship, it would have been perfect if Edward and Ben could strike up a mutually convenient acquaintance. But then, that would have been way too easy.

Ben spent most of the lunch focused on Angela, and when he did speak to the rest of us, it was about his favorite movie. After I admitted to having never seen _Rush Hour 2_ before, he regaled the entire table with a blow-by-blow recap of the film. "And then Jackie Chan starts talking to Ricky Tan in Chinese and Chris Tucker is just standing there with this look on his face like, 'Speak English, darn it!'"

"Yeah, I have no idea what that feels like." My elbow nudged Edward. He was busy folding a piece of paper into an airplane, and while he did smile appreciatively at the comment, he made no attempt to join the conversation.

"Then, Jackie Chan and Chris Tucker take on an entire salon of fighters and it's at least twenty against two. The stunts are awesome…" Ben continued his run-through of the movie until the end of lunch, Angela hanging on his every word.

"So, what'd you think of Ben?" I asked Edward as we walked to Biology.

"He's a nice guy and certainly passionate about _Rush Hour_," he said.

"Well, obsessions aren't all bad."

Edward stopped walking. "Are you kidding me? They're horrible! People should have something better to do with their lives than sit there and fixate over a movie."

"Wait, what?"

"I'm kidding." He cracked a smile. "But seriously, he is very nice. I'm happy for Angela. He's perfect for her." His assertion made it clear that while Ben was perfect for Angela, he was not perfect for Edward.

The next week, we tried again. This time we were "interviewing" Eric Yorkie, who fancied himself quite the philosopher. "People use the terms interchangeably, but the difference between a nerd and a geek is profound," Eric said. "A nerd is someone of academic standing, with particular interests in different intellectual fields of study. They are often inhibited by social ineptitude."

Edward was completely ignoring the conversation, choosing instead to draw t-shirt designs in his sketchbook. It wasn't exactly how I had imagined this whole process going.

"A geek, however," said Eric, "can be interested in a variety of niche activities, in fandoms varying from television to books to film or computer sciences."

"What do you think of this?" Edward asked quietly, passing his notebook to me. He'd sketched a t-shirt with the words _I Prefer the Term Hobbit_ on the front. "It's for short people, since they get called midgets all the time, which I think is rude."

"I like it," I said. "We should try and get it on the website by Friday."

"What'cha got there, Cullen?" Eric raised himself to get a glimpse at the sketchbook.

"Oh, it's nothing. Just something we _geeks_ like to do in our spare time," Edward said.

"Geek? I'd always considered you more of a nerd." Noticing my boyfriend's glower, Eric amended, "I meant that you're obviously smart, not that you're socially inept." It was another few seconds before Edward went back to drawing, not dignifying Eric with a response. "Or maybe you are socially inept," Eric said under his breath.

I glared at him. "Excuse me?" He better watch it or I was going to kick his sorry ass.

"Nothing," he said, before changing the topic to the difference between dweebs and dorks.

That's how it went through the rest of September, into October and November. Cynthia, Angela's freshmen mentor from last year, would sometimes join us and contribute her own questions to our interviewees. Edward, however, tenaciously remained silent through most of the meetings, the majority of the time choosing to re-read LotR instead of socializing. After weeks of failed attempts at finding a connection between Edward and a boy his age, I was feeling disheartened.

"This isn't working." I scratched Austin Marks' name off the list after a particularly frustrating and, frankly, disgusting lunch.

"Ah, don't give up hope," Angela said, soothingly rubbing my back.

"Yeah, there's still plenty of guys out there you haven't set Edward up with," Cynthia said.

I consulted our list. "Not that I can see."

"Well, I know this one guy," Cynthia said. "He's in my grade. He already has a lot of friends from being on the baseball team, but he's really nice. It's worth a shot, right?"

"Oh, really? Who's that?" I reconsidered the boys on my list, not paying much attention to her. There had always been something about Cynthia that irked me, something I couldn't quite put my finger on; I was hardly interested in anyone she was friends with.

"His name is Jasper Whitlock."

My notebook tumbled to the table with a loud thud. "You know Jasper?"

"We had some classes together last year. I'm sure he'd be willing to help out with your little social experiment if I asked him."

I mulled this over. Jasper was suave and popular and already had a ton of friends. I didn't see any future for a friendship between him and Edward. But I couldn't let the opportunity to interview the only known guy to ever reject Alice f-word Brandon pass me by. "Let's do it. How's next Monday?"

"Sure," Cynthia said. "I'll ask him."

"Great!" Angela said. "I must admit, I won't mind listening to that Southern accent for an hour."

"Jasper has an accent?" Cynthia asked.

Wow. She really wasn't the quickest broom on the Quidditch field, was she?

**. . .**

Edward contributed my excitement for Monday's approach to the fact that our mice were performing marvelously during our Biology experiments. Miss Elizabeth Bennet had somewhat learned to tell time and could deftly make her way through an obstacle course (thanks to the positive reinforcement of cheese). Mr. Darcy wasn't doing quite as well, but her cleaning habits were very interesting to observe nonetheless and had gotten us an A+ on our last essay.

The real reason for my excitement when Sunday rolled into Monday was Jasper. What were his exact thoughts during his first encounter with Alice f-word Brandon? Did he still have any of the love notes she had written to him (I would have literally paid to get my hands on one of those)? Had she ever snuck into his bedroom? Inquiring minds wanted to know.

"You seem anxious," Edward said.

"Do I?" We were already five minutes into lunch and Cynthia and Jasper hadn't shown up yet.

"Yes. What's wrong?"

"I'm a little nervous about our interview today. It's no big deal, but this could make all the difference to our paper."

Angela gave a nod of agreement. "Definitely. All the difference."

Edward looked between the pair of us, then let out a bark of laughter. "The two of you are still on that?"

"What do you mean? Of course we're still on it. The paper isn't due until the end of semester."

"Yeah, but according to Mr. Marcus you met your interview quota after talking with the third student," he said.

"You talked to Mr. Marcus?"

He nodded. "Which means you've either taken an extreme interest in your schoolwork, you've decided that you want a new boyfriend, or you've been attempting to find a suitable friend for yours truly."

"How'd you figure it out?" I asked, dazed. We'd been thoroughly covert about our mission.

"It took me about a month," Edward said, "but you gave it away by asking me how I felt about each person after lunch. And then this," he pulled a folded piece of paper out of his wallet and handed it to me, "confirmed it."

I opened the paper and my face flooded with color as I read, _Angela! This Sociology project is the perfect opportunity to get Edward to meet some guys_…

"Mr. Marcus gave this to you?" I asked. "That little leech! Isn't that against student-teacher confidentiality or something?"

Edward laughed. "Last time I checked, there's no such thing as student-teacher confidentiality, especially when it comes to notes passed in class."

"Why didn't you tell us?"

"Because it was too fun watching you be miserable during those lunches. I mean, the look on your face when Austin Marks attempted to blow bubbles into his chocolate milk using his nose…" Edward trailed off, clearly overwhelmed by amusement.

"You're not mad, are you?" Angela asked.

"Nah." He waved of his hand. "But you should both know that I'm fine. Honestly! I don't need more friends than what I have now. I appreciate the concern and effort, but I'm fine."

"This sucks," I said. "I was trying to help you out."

"I know," Edward said, giving my hand a squeeze. "But believe it or not, I do sometimes know what's right for me. I'm _fine_. Promise me today will be the last one. As much fun as it's been, I want our lunches to go back to normal."

"Sure, sure," I said. "This last one was more for me than you anyway."

Edward scowled and raised a quizzical eyebrow. "Really now?"

"There's no need to get jealous. I still find you the hottest, smartest, funniest, blah, blah, blah, sexiest boy on the planet. I'm not planning on replacing you any time soon."

"That's sweet, honey-biscuit," Edward said.

Angela grimaced. "Honey-biscuit?" she mouthed.

I shrugged. Edward had his quirks and I was still basking in the disappointment of our failed experiment to think much of it.

"At least we'll ace our paper," she reasoned. "And here come Cynthia and Jasper."

Perking up immediately, I dropped Edward's hand and grabbed my pencil. "Hi, Jasper!" I said enthusiastically.

"Hello," he said, taking a seat directly across from me. "Edward, Angela," he added.

"Sorry we took so long," Cynthia said. "The lunch line was madness."

"It's all right." I was anxious not to waste the little time we had left. "So how'd the two of you meet?"

"English Lit last semester," Jasper said, taking a bite of his sandwich.

"And is there anything romantic going on between you?" Angela asked. I couldn't help but smile at her nerve.

"No, definitely not." Cynthia momentarily flashed her eyes in Eric Yorkie's direction. Ew. "We bonded over a mutual dislike for my little sister."

"I didn't know you had a little sister. Who is it?" I asked.

"She's in your grade, actually," Cynthia said. "Alice Brandon."

"Alice Bandon is your sister?"

"Shh!" Cynthia said. "It's not like I go around publicizing it."

I turned to Edward to see if this news surprised him, but he seemed completely uninterested in the conversation, instead smiling contentedly as he fiddled with a strand of my hair.

"I don't blame you," Jasper piped up. "A sister like yours is a skeleton I would try keeping in the closet."

"She's dreadful," Cynthia said. I felt sorry for her, but was thrilled to finally figure out why I never liked her.

"She's possibly the most annoying person I've met," Jasper said.

"She doesn't even count as a whole person!" Cynthia said. "She's so tiny she only counts as half. Practically a midget, in my opinion."

Jasper laughed. "I agree! Only, I prefer the term hobbit."

Total silence fell over the table. Cynthia and Angela were gaping at Jasper. Edward had been midway through lifting a forkful of food to his mouth and had utterly frozen at the statement. As it was, Jasper seemed at a loss as to why we were all suddenly staring at him.

"I'm sorry," I said. "What did you say?"

"Uh, I said that I preferred the term hobbit," Jasper said tentatively. "It's a _Lord of the Rings_ reference. Hobbits are short people."

"You're a fan of _Lord of the Rings_?"

"Well, yeah. But I actually stole the saying off a t-shirt. I'm not _that_ original. It's from this great website—"

"Are you talking about MyT-Spot. com?" I said in disbelief.

Jasper looked surprised. "You know of it?"

"We don't _know_ of it. We own it!" I squealed. "Edward and I run the whole website. The shirt you're talking about, Edward designed it!"

"No way!" He was as excited as I was.

"I'm not kidding!" I reached into Edward's bag and pulled out his sketchbook (as he hadn't moved a muscle since this astonishing turn of events). I turned to the page with the design and handed it to Jasper. "See? Isn't that crazy?"

"Man, I love your designs," Jasper told Edward. "We use them almost exclusively at Arwen-Undomiel. com."

Edward's fork clattered to his plate. "You work for A-U?"

"I don't work for it. I run it."

Eyeing him skeptically, Edward did something that made me want to both giggle and groan. "_Pelin pedi i lam edhellen_."

Jasper smirked. "_Mae. Im gelir an le_."

"Holy shit," Edward muttered under his breath.

"So you visit A-U often?"

"Only about twenty times a day," Edward said in awe. "It's my absolute favorite fan site out there."

"That's insane! What're the chances of this happening? We should affiliate. I fucking love your shirts. Not only are the designs awesome, but they're quality merchandise. I mean, where else can you find a 100% cotton tee with some actual weight behind it on the net? Plus, they're sold at competitive prices!"

Edward looked like he was about to wet himself. "We have a deal with a manufacturer and buy them wholesale. But never mind that, what did you think about the last movie?"

"I hated it." Jasper frowned. "Don't get me started on how they destroyed Faramir's character."

"And by Faramir, you mean Filmamir, right? He at least remains untarnished in the books."

"Amen that. I mean, I'm not a purist or anything, but to rewrite entire characters? Come on, Peter!"

"Who's Peter?" Angela asked me.

"Peter Jackson — he's the director of _Lord of the Rings_." I was slightly disgusted with how easily I could follow their conversation.

The bell rang and Jasper collected his things. "You headed to class?" he asked Edward.

"Yeah, Biology. Mr. Banner should _Labo vi Orodruin_."

Jasper laughed at whatever Edward had said. "It's on my way to Spanish. I'll walk with you."

"Thanks," Edward said, picking up his half-eaten lunch and backpack. "As film Boromir would say: None of us should wander alone, you least of all."

Jasper chuckled and picked the quote up where Edward left off. "I know you suffer, I see it day by day. Are you sure you do not suffer needlessly? There are other ways, Frodo, other paths to Biology we might take. "

"I know what you would say, and it would seem like wisdom, but for the warning in my heart." Edward dumped his trash."There is no other way. "

"I ask only for the strength to defend my people!" Jasper yelled dramatically as the two exited the cafeteria without a glance back at Angela, Cynthia, and I.

The three of us looked at each other for a few seconds, amazed at what we had just witnessed, and then, simultaneously, we began laughing. "Nicely done, Cynthia!" I said, warming to the girl (despite her Brandon ties) and giving her a high five. "And extra points for getting a _Lord of the Rings_ geek! I didn't realize Jasper had that in him!"

"Neither did I!" she said. "I always thought that Jasper was hella cool! Turns out he's as nerdy as Edward is!"

My smile was replaced by a scowl. "Excuse me, but Edward is _not_ a nerd." Cynthia looked perplexed. "He is a _geek. _There's a difference."

**. . .**

The whole school was buzzing about how Jasper Whitlock, baseball superstar and golden-boy extraordinaire, had befriended Edward Cullen (who was mostly known for wearing a Harry Potter costume to last year's Valentine's Day dance). Jasper had taken up residence at our lunch table over the past week, and the gossip was running rampant.

Some people guessed Edward had paid Jasper to hang out with him, others thought Edward was doing Jasper's homework, but anyone who truly watched couldn't deny that Edward and Jasper were having a blast. I hoped it would diffuse the rumors soon. I was becoming self-conscious of my eating habits with the eyes of the entire cafeteria focused on our table.

"I was thinking of setting up a private forum on A-U," Jasper said, huddling over a notebook where he and Edward were brainstorming ideas for his LotR fansite. "Ringers only. The problem is I don't know how to differentiate between hardcore fans and folks who are casually browsing."

"You could make a test," Edward suggested. "In order to register, they have to pass a challenge. It can be as simple as, '_pedo mellon a minno_.' Ringers will easily know what to do."

"I don't get it," Cynthia said, desperate to be a part of their conversation.

"It means, 'Speak, friend, and enter,'" Jasper said. "You just have to type in the Elvish word for friend, and then you can enter the site."

"Oh, I like that!" Cynthia said. "I remember that part from the movies. Frodo figures it out and opens the door to the mines."

Jasper and Edward both gave her a placating, half-cringing smile before turning back to the notebook. "Maybe include a provision that the Ringer has to know who actually figured the riddle out," Edward muttered and both boys chuckled quietly.

Even while talking to Jasper, Edward held my hand tightly, reminding me that though he had a new friend, he was still mine… my own… my _precious_.

I wrinkled my nose at the turn my thoughts had taken. It was great that I wouldn't have to deal with Edward's love for LotR on a day-to-day basis anymore; it was starting to bleed into my everyday vocabulary. Edward now had Jasper for _Lord of the Rings_. I had Angela for _Harry Potter_. And we had each other for stimulating conversation and the very pleasant make-out sessions that mostly took place inside the Cullen's movie room. Everything was good.

It took a few weeks, but the school chitchat finally turned from my boyfriend's developing friendship with Jasper to what everyone's plans were over Christmas break. So far, my own plans looked promising. I had the Midnight Showing of _Return of the King_ this upcoming Friday (which I was, oh, so thrilled about) and I planned on spending quality time with my boyfriend throughout the rest of the break.

Not that Edward was ignoring me or anything, but the introduction of Jasper into his life meant that his time was split between us now. As I normally had his undivided attention, learning how to share Edward was taking some getting used to. But I considered it a fair trade off, seeing how happy he was.

When the bell rang on our last day of classes before the break, I immediately rushed off to the Biology room to collect Miss Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy. I had grown attached to them over the past few months and, upon securing Charlie's half-hearted permission, had decided to keep the little critters as pets. "Hello, Miss Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy," I said to the cage, picking it up. "Are you ready to come home with me? You're going to like your view. It overlooks a tree."

I turned to walk out of the classroom. Alice f-word Brandon was standing so frighteningly close to me that I screamed and dropped the cage. "Don't sneak up on people like that!" I yelled, grasping at my chest. The top of the cage had popped off when it collided with the ground, and Miss Elizabeth Bennet had escaped under the teacher's desk. I got on my hands and knees to find her. "A little help would be nice."

"There is absolutely no way I'm touching that disgusting creature," Alice said.

"Fine. But can you at least close the damn door so she doesn't escape?"

Once the door was closed, Alice turned back to me. "You're probably wondering what I'm doing here."

"Are you joking? I've been expecting this ambush for weeks. I'm shocked you didn't hit me up for Jasper-info sooner."

She seemed flabbergasted that I was onto her game. "This is the first time I could get you alone," she admitted.

"Well, personally, I'd prefer to have this conversation standing up." I took another swipe under the desk and caught something furry: A dust bunny. Ew. "The sooner I catch Miss Elizabeth Bennet, the sooner I talk."

Alice crossed her arms. "I saw the rodent run under the filing cabinet."

"Thank you." I crawled over to the corner to peek under the cabinet. Sure enough, I could see a little white tail poking out.

"Can you hand me some of those textbooks?" I pointed to a shelf near the window. "I have to block the exits so she doesn't run again." Alice didn't look pleased but did as I asked anyway. I liked having this power… maybe too much. "So, you're still hung up on Jasper, eh?" I asked, carefully setting down the textbooks.

"We're soul mates," she said. "He just doesn't know it yet."

"That must really suck." I swiped at Miss Elizabeth Bennet and caught her by the tips of my fingers. She was a tricky little mouse; that's why I loved her so much.

"Yeah, it does. Maybe we could talk about it over coffee?"

"You want to get… coffee? With me?"

"Yeah, Starbucks has these comfy chairs. You can literally sit in them and talk for hours. You know, I could tell you about something. And then you can tell me about Edward."

"And Edward's friends," I said.

"Exactly!"

I dropped Miss Elizabeth Bennet into her cage and closed the lid tightly. "No, thank you."

"No really, we could be friends," she insisted.

"Why? So you can use me to spy on Jasper? Yeah, right." I picked up the cage and headed towards the door.

"Wait!" she grabbed my sleeve.

"Alice, we are not friends. We will never be friends," I said, yanking my arm away. "And I'm not spilling Jasper's secrets to you."

"I just want to know how you did it." There was something akin to desperation in her eyes. "How you got him to be your friend."

"You know my boyfriend? Edward Cullen?"

"Of course I know Edward."

"Do you remember on Valentine's Day in eighth grade how you told him he was boring? Convinced him I wouldn't want to be with him because he was too vanilla?" The way her eyes couldn't meet mine told me she remembered. "Well, how about this? Jasper thinks you're too much like Rocky Road: potholed, artificially sweetened, and most importantly," I dropped to a whisper, "he thinks you're nuts."

"Ha-ha, Bella. How long did it take you to come up with that one?"

I smiled sweetly, then exited the room. I walked the halls as quickly as I could while carrying the mouse cage. After my confrontation with Alice, I was ready to find Edward and get the hell out of this school. Finally, I found him and Jasper talking near the gym lockers. I smiled at the two boys — thick as thieves, they were.

"I'll pick you up around four tomorrow," Jasper was saying. "You'll be dressed and ready to go?"

"Yep. My costume's already laid out. How's yours coming along?"

"Faramir's a hard character to replicate and I want it to be as authentic as possible, considering how they destroyed him in the last movie."

"I have faith in you, but let me know if you need any help."

"I will. _Mára aurë, _Bella." Jasper gave me a nod as I walked over to stand next to Edward. I smiled back pleasantly, though I felt a pinch of irritation I couldn't quite put my finger on. "Well, I'll let you two love birds at it. Call me later."

"_Calo anor na ven_." Edward said, bowing to Jasper.

"_Nai haryuvalyë melwa rë_," Jasper responded, bowing back. This was, in Edward's opinion, a much more civilized parting than pounding fists. I thought it was funny.

"I've missed you," Edward said, leaning in for a kiss. "Our last class always feels like the longest, since I don't get to see you."

"You say that everyday," I said.

"And every day you feel the need to remind me that I say that every day. And then I remind you that I say it every day because it's true."

I laughed. "Okay, enough with this. We need to come up with a new afternoon greeting for next semester. Something a bit more original, I think."

"Deal," Edward said. "May I carry that for you?" He nodded towards the mouse cage.

"I appreciate the valiant offer, but I got it. Wouldn't want you to get infected by all the mouse germs," I said. He noticeably didn't argue. Throughout our entire Biology project he had managed to never once touch the cage or the mice. I found that quite impressive. "Is Jasper coming to the Midnight Showing with us tomorrow night?"

"With _us_?" Edward said. "I thought you wouldn't want to go, you know, with your LotR hating ways and general support of _Harry Potter_."

I was a little surprised at his assumption. We had never discussed it before, but I'd always thought the Midnight Showings were kind of our thing. "Well, yeah, but we've gone the last two years together."

"You hated it."

"'Hate' is a strong word…"

He chuckled. "I appreciate so much that you're willing to sacrifice your time to make me happy. But I don't want to go down that road again if it's going to result in another episode like last year."

"Oh." I cringed at the mention of that horrible week when we had broken up.

"But it's all right because I have Jasper now for this kind of stuff."

I gave him a small smile, not completely sure of why this was bothering me so much. "Okay, you have fun with Jasper. I guess it'll be Mr. Darcy, Miss Elizabeth Bennet, and me tomorrow night for another viewing of _Pride and Prejudice_."

"Speaking of that, have you noticed that Mr. Darcy is looking hefty around the middle area?" he said, pointing inside the cage towards the black mouse.

She was getting wider, but I couldn't fault her for having a healthy appetite. "What's wrong with a woman having some weight on her?"

"It's not that. It's… are you sure both mice are female?"

"They came from the female cage. You were there," I said.

Edward sighed and kissed my forehead. "I hope you haven't grown too attached to her. We may have to take her back to the pet store."

"Why?" I tightened my grip on the cage.

"Because I think Miss Elizabeth Bennet may have impregnated Mr. Darcy."

_**. . .**_

As it turned out, Miss Elizabeth Bennet was indeed a mister and had thoroughly knocked-up Mr. Darcy, who was very close to having her litter now. The pet shop apologized profusely for their mistake, but it was already too late. Charlie outright refused to allow me to keep the expecting mouse, and the next day Edward held my hand as I said a tearful goodbye and wished her the best of luck with her little family.

"At least you still have Miss Elizabeth Bennet," Edward said, hugging me as Charlie walked out the door with my pet.

"It won't be the same without her," I said into his shoulder.

"I love that you care so much about even the smallest creatures."

I sniffed. "That's not really true. I could do without so many spiders in the world."

Edward dried my eyes with a handkerchief he carried in his back pocket, as Carlisle pulled up in my driveway. Edward smiled sympathetically. "Are you going to be okay if I leave?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine. I have plenty to do tonight," I lied. "Go make yourself into the best-looking Aragorn replica imaginable and have fun with Jasper. I expect you to win the costume contest!"

"I'll bring you back the prize." He pecked me on the lips. "I'll see you tomorrow and tell you all about it."

"I look forward to it." I waved goodbye as he walked to his father's car, then headed to the kitchen where I commenced in the one activity I felt would be both productive and therapeutic: Cooking. I felt like one of the spaghetti noodles boiling in the blisteringly hot vat of water.

"Everything went fine at the pet shop," Charlie said, walking into the kitchen. "The mouse is in a good, safe environment to have her litter now."

"Great," I said flatly, watching the boiling water.

Charlie dropped his keys on the counter. "Didn't you and Edward have plans tonight?"

"I thought so."

"He didn't stand you up, did he? I'll snap his neck."

I laughed freely at that. "No, you won't. You're a giant softie now — everyone knows it."

Charlie grumbled something nonsensical about losing his edge and killing someone for the sake of it. "So what happened? I paid for that stupid elf dress to get dry cleaned, why aren't you wearing it?"

I transferred the spaghetti from the pot into the colander. "It's nothing really. I didn't even bother to pick the dress up. Edward decided to go with—"

"Wait, let me guess… Jasper?"

"You know Jasper? Don't tell me he's working for you, too!"

"Thank God, no," Charlie crossed his arms and leaned against the counter. "Trust me, there's already enough Jasper-talk in the office without him actually being there. Edward never shuts up about the boy."

"Oh?" I wondered, dumping a jar of Prego sauce in with the noodles. Some of it dripped out the holes of the colander and I remembered I was supposed to put it in a bowl first. Oops. I blamed it on my small bout of jealousy.

"Yep. He talks so much about Jasper, Officer Stevens was beginning to think they were a couple—"

"What!"

"Don't worry. I assured him he was still my future son-in-law and told him to shut the hell up." People thought they were _dating_? A vision of Jasper and Edward kissing flashed in my mind and I almost dropped the spaghetti.

"Still, it's always, 'Jasper this. Jasper that,'" Charlie said. "'Jasper managed to lead us into the Mines of Moria without waking a single orc on our RPG forum. Jasper knows Elvish almost as well as I do. Jasper is trying to get me to join the baseball team next semester. Jasper's designing a new—'" The doorbell interrupted his rant. Charlie pulled a twenty out of his wallet. "That's the pizza. Do you mind getting it?"

"Dad! I made spaghetti!"

"Sometimes a man needs a back-up plan with your cooking."

"Are you kidding me right now?"

Charlie picked up the dripping colander and poured the spaghetti into the trash. "Go get the pizza, please."

I huffed for dramatic effect, grabbed the money, strutted over to the door, and yanked it open with much more force than necessary. I froze when I saw who was at the door. It wasn't the pizza boy.

"My mom asked me to drop this by since it wasn't picked up this afternoon. She's a friend of Chief Swan." It was a pimply faced boy I vaguely recognized as a senior from Forks High. He was holding my silky Arwen dress — packaged in a large, clear bag — out to me. "I'm assuming it's probably not Chief Swan's and it belongs to you?"

My lip wobbled as I looked at the blue dress. Edward had given it to me for my fourteenth birthday, before a rather intense make-out session in the movie room where I had accidentally touched his _thing_ for the first time. He had told me, "I'll be your Aragorn, if you'll be my Arwen." His voice had been so passionate and adoring that a shiver had run down my spine.

Looking at the dress, it hit me that things would never be the same again. We were changing, growing up. I missed childhood desperately.

"Uh, so this dress _is_ Chief Swan's?"

"What?" I asked, jerking my transfixed gaze from the dress to the boy.

"This dress belongs to Chief Swan?"

"Don't be ridiculous." I took the dress delicately from him. "It obviously wouldn't fit him, even if he was prone to wearing women's clothing."

The boy chuckled. "Fair enough."

"Thanks for dropping it off, though."

"No problem," he said, heading back to his car.

Instead of rejoining Charlie in the kitchen, I trudged up the stairs to my bedroom and laid the dress out on the bed without the plastic covering. I took a seat in the rocking chair that had been in the corner of my room since I was a child and observed the blue dress, reminiscing about the times I had worn it. Edward always thought I was beautiful, but there was something about that dress. His eyes would light up and he would tell me I was glorious over and over again in an almost worshipful tone.

Even if I hated _Lord of the Rings_, I loved that moment and I felt bitter that I had been robbed of it by Jasper. If things had gone differently, if I had never sought out a friend for Edward, I would be getting ready for him right now. Esme would be doing my hair. I would be putting on that dress. Edward would be with _me_.

"What do you think, Miss Elizabeth?" I asked the cage on my left. It seemed much emptier without Mr. Darcy. I wasn't the only one missing my companion. "It doesn't look quite right lying out there on the bed, does it?"

I imagined the mouse squeaked his concurrence before turning back to his supper.

"Exactly," I said, standing up to close my bedroom door. I slipped the dress over my spaghetti-string shirt and sweats. I would only wear it for a little bit… just to remember better.

The door to my bedroom opened and I screamed. "I'm not dressed!" Charlie would tease me relentlessly if he saw me twirling around in my Arwen costume.

"Are you in here?" a voice that distinctly was _not_ my father's asked at the same time.

The breath caught in my throat. Edward was standing in my bedroom doorway, dressed in his full Aragorn costume, clearly taken aback as he registered what I was wearing. I blushed under his scrutiny, mortified at getting caught doing something so silly.

We stood there for several moments staring at each other, before he covered the distance between us, and placed a soft hand on my cheek. "_Bella_," he whispered fervently, and I felt the meaning behind my name. _Beautiful_.

I raised my lips to his and kissed him all the harder for it, tangling my fingers in his hair. He responded in kind, nipping my lips with a reverent sort of ardor. I was enjoying the sensations so much, I almost forgot that this was very odd indeed.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, pulling away. "You're going to miss the Midnight Showing of _Return of the King_!"

"I don't care," he said urgently, resting his forehead on mine. "It was wrong. All wrong. I couldn't stand being there without you. I missed you so much."

"But Jasper—"

"Jasper is a great friend, but it wasn't the same. I left him there and took a Taxi home."

I was horrified. "Was he mad?"

He shook his head. "Not at all. He understands that you're the sun and the moon and the stars to me."

Edward had done so many terribly romantic things over the past few years, but none of them had made me feel quite as special as I did right now. He might not have said it in so many words, but he had assured me that I was still his best friend and always would be. It meant more to me than I could express, and I was overwhelmed to the point of explosion.

"Can you give me a minute?" I asked, stepping away from him and taking the dress off. He seemed confused but agreed, giving my hand one last squeeze.

I headed to the living room where Charlie was sitting watching a Mariner's game. The second I was inside the room, I put my hand over my mouth and squealed. Literally squealed. "Oh my Godric! Can you believe he did that?"

Charlie had an amused gleam in his eye. "Are we having a moment? Shouldn't we be painting our toenails as you tell me every intimate detail of that excessively passionate kiss he just gave you?"

"Ugh, no. That would be gross."

"Exactly." Charlie turned back to the TV. "Keep the door open and don't let me catch you doing anything you wouldn't want to explain to me in explicit detail." I rolled my eyes and turned to leave. "Oh, and Bella?"

"Hmm?"

"Don't even think about pocketing that twenty."

I shot him a dirty look as I handed the pizza money back to him.

"Oh, and Bella?"

"What?"

"I'm happy I don't have to kill Edward."

"That's sweet dad."

"Oh, and Bella?"

"What now?"

"I love you."

"I love you, too." I ran out of the room before Charlie could call me a fourth time.

When I arrived back in my bedroom, Edward was fingering the silky material of my Arwen costume. He turned towards me, his eyes reeling with regret. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I didn't realize…"

I shook my head and grabbed his hand. "It doesn't matter now," I told him sincerely. I led him to the rocking chair and gently pushed him into the seat, then crawled into his lap. I let my head rest against his shoulder, and his arms immediately encompassed me.

It was a freaking uncomfortable position, but I couldn't remember ever feeling so warm and relaxed in my life. Like Edward needed me, I needed him.

"If we leave right now, we could probably still make it to the Midnight Showing," I said.

"I'm happy here," he said.

I hummed my agreement, not wanting to leave anyways. "We can go tomorrow, if you want."

"I'd like that," he said.

The noise of the TV downstairs and Miss Elizabeth Bennet running on his mouse wheel were the only audible sounds as we let silence settle between us. I snuggled into a more comfortable position in his lap as he contentedly stroked my hair.

Perhaps growing up wasn't so bad after all.

_**. . .**_

**A/N:** Thank you so much to everyone who read, reviewed, alerted, tweeted, or talked about the last chapter! A HUGE thank you for the overwhelming show of support. I read and love every single one! Thank you to my awesome beta, **xsecretxkeeperx**, as well!

Up Next..._ Chapter Twenty: The First Time He Stepped Out of His Comfort Zone_


	24. TFT He Stepped Out of His Comfort Zone

**An Introduction to Swirl and Daisy: The Non-Romantic Romance**

Disclaimer: Any Twilight characters that may appear in this story belong to Stephenie Meyer. The remainder is my original work. No reproduction is allowed without my written consent.

_Chapter Twenty: The First Time He Stepped Out of His Comfort Zone_

_**. . .**_

Our two-week winter break and a white Christmas followed the release of _Return of the King_. I knew once Edward and I went back to school we'd have to reinvent what "normal" was for us — a normal where Jasper was an everyday reality of my life — but for now I was content to spend the holidays with the little family I had fashioned for myself.

Charlie and I were invited to the Cullen's for Christmas dinner, and knowing I would one day become a permanent fixture in the Cullen's holiday plans, I tried to help Esme and Mrs. Evans cook the holiday meal. Sadly, though, after an incident involving mashed potatoes and a spork, I was shooed from the kitchen to join the men. I didn't mind too much. I had years to learn and practice all of Mrs. Evan's special recipes and I'd rather have been with Edward, anyway.

I found the men in front of the living room TV, watching an old Mariner's game (Charlie's choice, I was sure).

"—talked to Jasper yesterday," Edward was saying. "Apparently Coach Clapp decided to pursue a passion for art and is leaving the school's baseball team."

"_Art_?" Charlie scoffed.

"He does sculpting or some other form of fine art. What's unfortunate about it is that if the school doesn't find a new coach soon, Jasper won't be able to play."

"That sucks," I said, walking into the room and sitting next to Edward on the couch. "I know how much Jasper enjoys baseball." _And how much I enjoy Jasper keeping busy, so I can have my boyfriend to myself._

"Yes," Edward said, taking my hand with a nervous glance at Charlie. "But I'm sure they'll find someone new."

"Bella, are you excited to start driving lessons?" Carlisle asked.

I smiled, despite not yet having a means to practice. "I can't wait to get on the road, once we figure out the car situation." It wasn't as if I could take the cruiser for a joyride (not that I wanted to).

"We've been dealing with a bit of that in this house, as well," Carlisle said. "Edward thought he would be learning to drive in my Mercedes. He was delusional if he thought I would let a brand new driver get behind the wheel of a car that costs more than one hundred and fifty thousand dollars. It's the mini-van for this one." He clapped Edward on the shoulder sardonically.

I couldn't help but snicker at the image of Edward driving Esme's mini-van. Charlie apparently couldn't, either, because he started laughing, too.

Edward glared at me. "I'm only disappointed because the Mercedes is clearly the better chick magnet. Now I'll have to rely on my natural wit and charm to pick up the ladies," he joked (I think).

"Oh, really?" I asked, snatching my hand back. "And what do you plan on doing with those girls, exactly?"

Edward thought about it intently. "Suck their blood."

"You've been watching _Buffy_ again, haven't you?"

Esme and Mrs. Evans soon called us into the dining room to enjoy the feast they had prepared. I loved how naturally Charlie and I fit in with the Cullens. Everything was jovial and enjoyable as we sat around, chatting and indulging in extra helpings of Mrs. Evans' secret recipe stuffing and homemade eggnog, and after dinner, we all opened presents around the tree.

I had decided to do handmade gifts this year, since almost every penny I was making from MyT-Spot was going into a college savings account. Edward had decided to do the same, making me feel better about not spending any money. The matching hats and scarves I had knitted (thanks to Angela's tutelage) went over swimmingly, and everyone marveled at how amazing Edward's hand-drawn caricatures of each person were. I especially loved mine; he had exaggerated all my best features and put a little daisy in my hair as a finishing touch.

Edward also handed me a larger box wrapped in polar bear and penguin themed paper, an inside joke from a metaphor gone terribly wrong.

"You got me something else?" I asked, taking the box skeptically and worrying that my little hats and scarves weren't adequate.

He shook his head. "Read the card."

_Dear Bella,_

_Thank you for the happiness and joy you bring to Edward's life. You are an amazing young lady and we can't wait to spend the rest of our lives with you._

_The Cullens_

I read that last line again: _we can't wait to spend the rest of our lives with you_. It sounded odd coming from Carlisle and Esme, but I opened the wrapping paper anyway and laughed when I saw they had put my present inside a box originally used for a laptop. It reminded me of Renee. She always used whatever box was lying around to wrap my presents. One time, she had stuffed an entire shoebox full of hair accessories, and another, she had put a piggy bank inside the Kleenex box from my bedroom.

I opened the laptop box, eager to see what was inside and my jaw may have hit the floor when I saw it actually _was_ a laptop. A brief internal debate took place as I stared at the shiny, silver computer. It wasn't that my mom and dad were poor or anything; we just didn't have a lot of money lying around. I had never gotten anything this expensive before and part of me was saying I couldn't accept it. The other part was practically yelling how much I wanted it. I wanted it so badly.

And anyway, wouldn't it have been rude to reject a gift given to me by my future in-laws? It wouldn't be polite at all. If I really thought about it, it was for their benefit as much as mine that I accepted this gift.

Esme and Carlisle looked surprised as I scrambled out of my seat and ran over to give them each huge hugs, repeatedly telling them how thankful I was. Edward was practically glowing — that was, until I held the laptop high in the air and announced, "You shall be called Harry Potter, the second."

Edward scoffed. "I thought you'd want to give it a strong name, something less generic. Edward Cullen, the second, has a certain ring to it."

"And if someone had written 'Edward Cullen' as a dreamy fictional character as awesome as Harry Potter, I might have considered naming it after you."

Still, even Harry Potter, the second, couldn't beat what I got from Charlie. He ran out to warm up the car as I finished saying our thank yous and good-byes, but it wasn't a police cruiser that pulled around the side of the house.

I screamed so loud everyone covered their ears.

The ancient red truck rattled loudly as it lumbered to a halt, and the giant, shiny green bow stood out like a sore thumb across the faded hood, but this truck, as old and decrepit as it looked, was all _mine_.

_**. . .**_

I had decided to call my truck _Firebolt_ after Harry Potter's faithful broomstick. That way I could say stuff like, "I want to ride Harry's Firebolt," and make Edward all jealous and disconcerted over my witty innuendos. I faked innocence every time.

As school reconvened, Charlie suggested letting Edward use Firebolt for driving lessons, too. That would save Edward the humiliation of driving a mini-van, and our three parents could alternate lessons and teach both of us simultaneously, which was a huge time-savor.

At least, that's how Charlie proposed it. I suspected his real motivation was that he found great amusement in making Edward uncomfortable behind the wheel of an vehicle. Over the past few weeks of "teaching us to drive," he'd already talked about underage drinking, illegal substances, Internet predators, and several other subjects I expected he got from a teen-parenting book. He had apparently skipped the chapter about the consequences of not paying attention to the road, which Edward had a hard time doing when trying to catch every word of my dad's speeches.

"Since I have you both in the car with me, I would like to talk to you about something," Charlie cheerfully said during a February driving lesson. Edward was looping around the streets near his house and I was sitting cozily between him and my father waiting for my turn.

"What will it be today? Crossing the street without looking both ways?" I asked passively.

"Actually, I want to speak to you about the dangers of premarital sex."

Edward hit a pothole that could have easily been avoided and we all jerked violently at the jolt. "Sorry!" he apologized, now sitting rigidly in the driver's seat and overcompensating by going a measly ten miles-per-hour.

"Dad!" I hissed. "Can we please not have this conversation now?"

"I've been assured by several professionals that it's essential to talk about this as often as possible," Charlie said solemnly, though I knew he was enjoying Edward's discomfited posture and red complexion far too much. "After all, peer pressure surrounds you on a daily basis." Charlie's favorite new term was "peer pressure."

"Peer pressure," he said, "is everywhere. And it doesn't just come from the students at your school. It's in the media and on the Internet…" he continued his well-rehearsed speech about temptation, the physical and emotional costs of having sex too early, and birth control all the way back to the Cullen's house. Edward clung to his every word.

"For my health and well-being," he concluded dramatically as we pulled into the driveway, "I need you both to promise me that you'll stay strong and not give into the pressures this world will place on your young shoulders."

"I won't compromise my morals," Edward said sincerely, parking next to Carlisle's Mercedes. "I promise, Sir."

"Thank you," Charlie said. "Bella, it's your turn."

"I'm not promising anything," I said. "It's none of your business, anyway."

"I meant it's your turn to drive. Might I point out, though, that the beauty of this situation is only one of you needs to promise and you both have to keep it?"

My eyes narrowed. When had my father become an evil genius? I scooted out after Edward so we could switch seats. "Thanks a lot," I hissed in his ear. "Now we're never going to be able to have sex."

"We were going to wait until marriage anyway." Edward made a show of bending down to tie his shoelace so we could prolong our whispered conversation.

"Yes, but I'd still like the option if we change our minds."

Edward's eyes shot up and his mouth drooped a little. "Have you changed your mind?"

"Does it matter?" I asked. Truthfully, I hadn't altered the decision we had made when we were fourteen years old… yet. But who knew? I was getting older and, uh, _things_ were changing… physically… down _there_.

Edward thought about it, then shook his head. "Nope. I still want to wait. I mean, I obviously _want_ to. But I want it to be on our special night."

"I guess we'll—"

"What the hell are you two blabbering about?" Charlie called from the passenger seat. "We still have another hour of driving lessons." Edward stood and climbed into the middle seat. I hopped in after and shut the door. "Put on your seat belt and check your mirrors." I followed his steps to getting the old truck properly warmed up.

The key had just twisted in the ignition when Charlie said, "So Edward, why don't you tell Bella the news?" He was grinning like Peeves the Poltergeist.

"News? What news?" Edward didn't answer so I shot him a what-the-hell-is-going-on look in the rear-view mirror.

I was trying to double-pump the clutch, when he finally spat out, "I've decided to join the school baseball team."

"And I've decided to coach it," Charlie added gleefully.

I wasn't sure exactly what happened. All I remembered hearing was a loud THUD as the truck rolled back and hit a large metallic object, followed by complete stillness.

"That's not exactly how I saw that going," Charlie said over the silence.

"Holy shit!" I screamed, clapping my hand over my pounding heart. "What the hell did I hit?"

Edward confirmed my worst fear. "I think it was the side of my dad's Mercedes." He looked out the back window. "But don't worry; it doesn't look scratched."

"It was a small bump," Charlie said steadily. "If we drive away now, Carlisle will never know."

"Dad! We can't leave the scene of an accident. That's a hit and run!"

"Oh, Bella, it's only a hit and run if the Chief of Police isn't in the car with you," he said with a casual wave of his arm.

"You can not be serious!"

"Of course I'm serious. I'm not going to tell, and Edward isn't going to, either. Right, Edward?"

Edward looked like a deer caught in headlights. He glanced between the two of us for a couple seconds—Charlie was staring at him so menacingly, I couldn't really blame him for betraying his own father. "Of course not…"

"Way to not give into peer pressure," I said.

"He's your father."

"Bella has a point," Charlie said. "What if this were a real car accident? Would you let Bella drive away from the scene because someone else told you it was fine? As a Volunteer Deputy Sheriff, I would have expected better of you."

"Uh…" Edward looked so befuddled at the turn in conversation that I couldn't help but laugh. I caught the subtle twitch of Charlie's mustache, and knew that he was acutely enjoying this, as well. Poor Edward…

"But, seriously," Charlie said, raising his eyes to mine. "It's fine. Drive."

_**. . .**_

I was horrified to discover Edward and my father weren't joking about joining the Forks High Spartans. Jasper had been trying to recruit Edward to the team for a while now, but it was only when the baseball coach position became vacant that Edward started seriously considering it.

"So, how did this whole baseball thing come up?" I asked him later that night. We were curled up under a blanket in front of the giant TV in the Cullen's movie room.

"It happened after I mentioned to Chief Swan that they needed a new baseball coach," Edward said, evasively focusing on the TV.

"Okay, that explains why my dad joined the baseball team," I said, not willing to let him out of this conversation, "but what about you?"

"Well, Chief Swan seemed intrigued, but hesitant. I asked him why and he told me that he loved baseball, but had no experience coaching. One thing led another, and I agreed to join the team if he did."

What were they, girls? I bet Charlie couldn't go to the restroom unless Edward went, too. "But why?" I asked.

"A lot of people have been asking me that lately and it's bugging the hell out of me." He met my gaze. "I thought you of all people would be supportive."

"What do you mean by that?" I tried not to get defensive.

Edward sat up and readjusted himself on the couch so he was facing me. "Well, for one, this a great opportunity for Chief Swan and me to bond—"

"Why would I want you and Charlie spending even more time together?"

"And," he said as if I hadn't interrupted, "you're the one who inspired me to do this. I didn't realize how much I was missing until you pushed me to make a friend. I'm worried that I'm missing so much more by not opening myself up to different possibilities. I hate that everyone is doubting me."

"It's not doubt. You've never shown the slightest bit of interest in baseball or any other sport. This is all coming out of left field." I smirked at my own wit. "Get it? Left field?"

Edward cracked a smile. "I get the joke, and I suppose I understand why this would be a surprise. It still feels like everyone except Chief Swan and Jasper doubts I can do it."

His indication that Jasper was being supportive and I wasn't irked me. "Well, I think you're going to be brilliant." I snuggled close to him. "And I'll be there in the stands every day, watching you practice and cheering you on."

Mollified by my encouragement, he said, "Just knowing you support this decision is enough. You don't have to be there every day."

"Actually I do, whether I want to or not."

"Why?"

"Because who's going to drive me home when both you and Charlie are at baseball practice?"

He frowned. "I hadn't thought of that."

"But we'll pretend like I'm willingly there being the supportive girlfriend instead of the stranded spectator."

"I like that plan, Snuggle Bunny."

I opened my mouth to question the second ridiculous nickname I had heard from Edward, but my words were cut short by a much more pleasant activity involving lips.

_**. . .**_

"Baseball practice?" Angela repeated, puzzled.

"Yep." I put a textbook in my locker. "And he seems sensitive about the subject, so don't appear shocked or surprised when he brings it up."

"Has Edward ever so much as picked up a bat?"

"He must have at some point — the stupid school requires us to take gym." I shut my locker and we walked down the hall. "But even if he hasn't, Edward has a way of being good at everything he does without trying. I have every confidence this will be no different."

"I don't think sports work like that."

"I know." At this point, I was probably more nervous than Edward. "I'll let you know how it goes tomorrow, okay?"

"All right." Angela gave me a parting hug at the parking lot sidewalk. "I'll talk to you then."

It was drizzling as I made my way across the parking lot to the school's baseball field. The team was already warming up on the grass when I arrived. Edward looked so cute in his _You shall not pass!_ t-shirt and a pair of gym pants that made his butt look rather toned and delicious. When he saw me, he broke from the collective team jumping jacks and waved.

"Cullen! Stop ogling the pretty girl and pay attention!" Charlie, or I should say _Coach Swan_, sniped from the front of the group. Perhaps Edward was onto something when he thought my father would make a good coach. He seemed in his element. I gave Charlie an exaggerated eye roll and headed for the bleachers.

Our school had invested in a nice baseball stadium with plastic roofs over the stands, so I wouldn't get soaked during rainy-day practices. I made for the top of the bleachers, far away from the only other person who had come to watch the first practice: Alice f-word Brandon. I assumed she was here for some afterschool Jasper-stalking. That girl was seriously one Quaffle short of a complete Quidditch set.

Ignoring her, I settled in to watch the boy of my dreams follow his dreams.

About thirty minutes into the practice, it became abundantly clear (at least to me) that Coach Clapp hadn't left the baseball team to pursue his art. He'd obviously left so he wouldn't have to coach a bunch of freshmen and sophomores who didn't know which was the right end of a bat. The team was, in a word, terrible. Charlie hadn't bothered to hold try-outs since there had barely been enough sign-ups to put together a complete roster. Only three on that list had any skill; they were the players returning from last season. The rest seemed like they were as new to baseball as Edward was.

I found this to be both a blessing and a curse. It was a blessing to Edward that he wasn't the worst player on the field… or, at least, he was tied for being the worst with a dozen other players. It was a curse to poor Charlie, who looked like he was about to pull his mustache out in frustration.

With every dropped ball, failed swing, or misguided pitch, Charlie grew more and more frazzled.

"No, Connors, the mitt goes on your other hand!"

"Johnson, you're supposed to aim for the catcher, not the batter!"

"Louis is on your team, Crowley! Stop trying to tag him!"

"Bailey! Your cup is not there as a toy! Stop playing with it!"

"Cullen, pretend it's the head of an orc and smash the hell out of it," he said after Edward had wildly missed his last pitch.

Edward nodded and repositioned himself over the plate. Charlie pitched the ball softly to him. Edward swung with more force than necessary, missed spectacularly, and lost his grip on the bat. I gasped as it flew out of his hands and missed hitting Mike Newton by inches. My boyfriend may suck at baseball, but he sucked with style.

At that point, Charlie decided it might be safer to find everyone positions in the field and strategically started placing the team members where he thought they'd be best suited. I prayed Edward could pull it together in the field. He seemed disheartened that the batting hadn't gone better.

I glanced absentmindedly around the stadium and blanched when I saw Alice staring at me. She waved and smiled when I looked in her direction, grabbed her backpack, and started up the bleachers. Was she coming up here? I grabbed a textbook from my backpack and flung it open in my lap, hoping she'd get the hint that I was unavailable. Nope, she was still climbing.

"I see you've decided to do the whole groupie routine, as well," Alice said once she'd reached me.

I didn't answer, choosing to pretend I was engrossed in my book.

"Uh, hello? Earth to Bella." Alice snapped her fingers in front of my face and I boosted the book from my lap to my head to stop her. "What the hell are you doing?"

"I don't want people to think we're talking," I said into the pages.

"Last time I checked, I was still the most popular girl in our sophomore class. It's not like it'd hurt your reputation to talk to me."

"You'd be surprised," I said.

"Will you stop doing that?" she barked. "I look like an idiot standing here."

I grinned deviously. "Trust me, it has nothing to do with the fact that you're standing." Even without being able to see her face, I could feel her shooting daggers at me.

"That's your father down there trying to coach, right?" I didn't respond, hoping she'd go away if I ignored her long enough. "Bella!" she shrieked. "I can't believe you gave Edward a hand-job in the broom closet! Tell me, how fast—"

"Okay, okay, shut up and sit down!" I said in a panic, lowering the book and glancing from side to side to see if anyone had heard. Thankfully, everyone was preoccupied on the field.

She smiled sweetly and started to put her things next to me. "No, not there!"

"Then where?" she asked, annoyed.

I looked around, and nodded to the bench a couple rows ahead of me. "Down there."

"Are you for real?"

"You want to talk about Jasper? Fine. I'll tell you whatever you want. But do _not_ sit next to me."

She obliged noisily by stomping down two rows of bleachers and flinging her book bag down. "Happy now?"

"Not remotely," I said, watching Tyler drop the ball Edward had thrown from second base. "Have they always been this bad?"

"Well, I only started watching last year. They were actually really great because the team was mostly made up of seniors that had played for years. They've all graduated, though." That confirmed it for me. Coach Clapp was as much a sculptor as I was a hippogriff. He was probably sitting at home, mocking whichever sucker had taken his old position. "I really hope this bunch can step it up. Jasper needs a great team to support him. He's amazing."

I gritted my teeth. "It's not all about Jasper, you know."

She turned around indignantly. "Are you serious?" she asked at the same time I demanded, "Don't look back here when you talk!"

Spinning back around and angrily crossing her arms over chest, she said, "Just wait until you see Jasper hit a ball."

I didn't have to wait long. Charlie had finished getting the team situated in the field to his satisfaction and wanted to see what last year's team members had to offer. Jasper was first up to bat. He took a sturdy stance at the plate and looked perfectly at ease as Charlie threw the pitch. The crack of ball to metal sounded through the air like a shotgun. You could all but feel the power of the hit from the bleachers. Jasper _was_ an amazing batter. I would have been far more impressed, however, if the ball hadn't flown straight at second base.

I watched in horror as Edward stretched his gloved hand above his head to try to catch the ball. Only the ball wasn't headed there. With a grunt loud enough to hear from where I was sitting, the baseball struck him in the gut.

"Edward!" I screamed, jumping up from the bench. He fell to his knees, clutching his stomach painfully. I ditched Alice without a second thought. The team was already surrounding him when I arrived, and I unabashedly shoved the boys out of the way. I could hear Edward's ragged breaths and it scared me.

"That has got to hurt," I heard Jasper say as I finally reached the center of the crowd. "I really felt the power behind that one. The bat vibrated something fierce."

Edward groaned in response. Charlie was kneeling to the side of him, awkwardly patting Edward's bowed back. "We should get you to the nurse's office."

Another groan.

I dropped to my knees in front of him. "Edward?" His eyes flitted open at the sound of my voice, raw pain behind them. "Do you need a nurse?"

He shook his head.

"Tell me what you need," I said. "Say anything."

He took a couple shallow breaths and slowly removed the death clutch he had on his stomach. "I caught it," he choked out pitifully, holding up the baseball.

I giggled in both humor and relief. "Yes you did. You may make a decent second-baseman yet."

A grimace was the closest he could get to a smile under the circumstances.

"We should get him back to the dugout," Charlie said. I agreed and stepped back so he and Jasper could help Edward to his feet.

"We got it from here. You finish practice," I told Charlie, taking his place under Edward's right arm. Getting Edward to the dugout was tricky. Once there, we helped him lie down on the wooden bench.

"How's it feel, buddy?" Jasper asked.

"Like getting stabbed with a Morgul-blade."

Jasper laughed. "Frodo survived and so will you. Bella, there's a first aid kit on the wall of the sports shed with an ice pack. Perhaps you could… uh, _I _could go get it," he amended at my furious gaze. "Be right back."

"I thought he was exaggerating when he said he could hit a ball one hundred miles per hour," Edward said. "Good for him, I suppose, for making me a believer."

"Do you mind if I look at it?" I asked, reaching for the hem of his t-shirt.

Edward raised his eyebrows, but didn't object as I gently lifted the material. The skin surrounding the baseball-shaped mark was a furious shade of red. He would have a sizable bruise there in a couple hours.

"How does it look?" he asked.

"Really hot."

"There's heat emanating from it?"

"No, I mean _you_ are really hot." This was one of the rare opportunities I got to ogle a shirtless Edward. I wasn't about to waste it, whether he was wounded or not.

Edward let out a chuckle, followed by a cough. "It hurts to laugh."

"Well, I wasn't joking anyway." I lifted my right hand and lightly glided it over his uninjured abs. "I like that you're not too buff, but not too skinny. You're perfect for me. And you have these super adorable little hairs by your belly button," I said, twirling one of them around my pinky.

"What are you trying to do to me?" he groaned, reaching over and gripping my hand tightly.

I smiled cunningly. "I'm not helping?"

"You know you're not."

A comfortable silence settled between us as we waited for Jasper to return with the ice pack, until Edward squeezed my hand and said, "It's going to be all right."

"I know. It's going to bruise and probably hurt like a mother over the next couple of days, but you'll be fine."

"I meant about the baseball team," he said. "I know I'm not the best now, but Jasper said he was horrible at his first practice, too." I bit my lip so as not to point out that Jasper was five at his first practice — not fifteen. "It's going to be all right. Trust me. A few more practices, and the team will be there. Jasper says so."

"I believe you," I lied.

_**. . .**_

**A/N**: Thank you so much to everyone who favorites and alerts Swirl and Daisy! I get little email messages letting me know who you are every time. And a big thanks to everyone who reviews! I love reading your feedback, even if I don't always have time to respond like I wish I could!

Up Next..._ Chapter Twenty-One: The First Time He Failed_


	25. The First Time He Failed

**An Introduction to Swirl and Daisy: The Non-Romantic Romance**

Disclaimer: Any Twilight characters that may appear in this story belong to Stephenie Meyer. The remainder is my original work. No reproduction is allowed without my written consent.

_Chapter Twenty-One: The First Time He Failed_

_**. . .**_

The next few weeks did not go the way Jasper had foretold. While the Spartan baseball team showed vast improvement from the first practice, the majority of the team still couldn't hit more than the occasional foul ball or pop fly. Edward had yet to hit even that.

Then there were the fielding errors, like when Edward threw the ball to Mike Newton and, instead of getting it anywhere near his mitt, hit Mike right in the shin. In all fairness to Edward, he might have been aiming at Mike's leg, since he still hadn't forgiven him for the crude comments he'd made about me last year. Apparently neither had Charlie, who congratulated Edward on the amazing throw, then turned to Mike (who was hopping up and down on one foot in agony) and told him to knock off the theatrics and try harder to catch the ball next time.

I could tell Charlie was growing anxious as the first game drew nearer. He wasn't a bad coach. As a matter of fact, he was excellent, and he held the respect of every member on the team. But not even Dumbledore could transform a muggle into a magician in five weeks.

Edward, on the other hand, was unfazed by the team's general lameness. "According to Jasper, a recent study says newcomers are more likely to make unexpectedly great plays. So come game time, the team has nothing to worry about," he'd say.

As far as practices went, Alice continued to show up and I continued to ignore her (unless she had something interesting to say). The laptop the Cullens had given me for Christmas became my saving grace. I brought it to the stadium with me and worked on MyT-Spot projects while Edward and Charlie were at practice. It allowed me time to experiment with some of the graphics and web software Edward had installed on the computer, so I didn't have to focus too much on what was happening on the field. I was already nervous enough without the daily reminder of how bad the team was.

"Hello, beautiful," Edward greeted me after practice let out the Thursday before the first game. He sat on the bleacher behind me and playfully kissed my forehead.

I snuggled back into him. I loved how Edward smelled after practice. Any other girl would say he was sweaty and gross, but to me he smelt raw and manly. It made me want to jump him. "Hello, handsome. How was practice?"

Edward shrugged. "Okay, I guess. With the game in two days, Coach is working us hard. It could have gone better, but that seems to be true with every practice."

"That's how it goes every year," Jasper said with a dismissive wave, choosing to sit next to me on the bench. I didn't like his smell nearly as much as Edward's. "But don't worry. The first game kicks everyone into high gear. It's going to be fine."

"What are you working on?" Edward asked, glancing at my laptop screen.

"Just MyT-Spot stuff. I'm thinking of adding some new features to the site." I couldn't wait to show him some of the things I had come up with. His mind would be thoroughly blown, I was sure of it.

"You know, Jasper actually has some ideas for merchandise," Edward said, smiling brightly.

"That's nice," I said, uninterested. "Well, Edward and I better get going. We have loads of work to do tonight." I closed my laptop and stuffed it into my backpack. "You ready to go?"

"Actually," Jasper spoke before Edward could, "we were all thinking of grabbing pizza. Even Coach is coming, and you're invited, as well."

"I don't think so," I said, looking at Edward. "We have a lot of work to do…"

"Oh, come on, don't you ever take a night off?" Jasper asked.

"Yes, as a matter of fact. We've hardly worked on MyT-Spot since baseball season started."

"But this is important! It's the night before the night before our first baseball game! We have to bond!" Jasper said.

"Fine, if Edward wants to go, he can," I said. "I'm not his mother. It's not like he needs my permission."

"I wasn't suggesting that he did."

"Hello, Edward is sitting right here," Edward spoke up. "And Edward is not going unless Bella goes."

Ha! I felt the sudden desire to let out a victorious roar at his words. Take that Jasper Whitlock!

"However," Edward said, "I would really like to go out with the rest of the team. What do you say we work on MyT-Spot over the weekend instead of tonight?"

He looked so hopeful; I couldn't let him down. My ideas would have to wait and so would my roar of victory.

_**. . .**_

Chatter about the looming baseball game filled the halls of Forks High the next day at school. People speculated about how good or bad the team would be and whether we had a fighting chance of repeating the championship win from last year. I kept my mouth firmly shut. They could decide for themselves tomorrow.

Edward appeared to be handling the pressure quite well for how inexperienced he was at it all. Whenever I asked him if he was doing okay, he always said he had a few nerves, but nothing out of the ordinary. Then he'd quote something Jasper had told him about how great they were going to be despite how they performed in practice. Whenever he said something like that, I bit my tongue. Edward had convinced himself that everything was going to be fine at tomorrow's baseball game. I didn't want to be the one to rain on his parade.

His nerves did seem to be manifesting in other ways, though. He'd suddenly developed a compulsion to keep his backpack as neat and tidy as possible. He'd already reorganized it three times during our morning classes. It was on our way to lunch, when he spotted something wrong with _my _backpack and tried to fix it, that I finally had enough.

"Edward, what's wrong?" I asked, gripping his hand to stop him from messing with my backpack pockets.

"Some of your mechanical pencils are poking out through the zipper," he answered. "It makes them susceptible to sticky fingers."

"That's not what I mean and you know it. Right now, the least of my worries is my pencils being stolen. What's really wrong?" That was when I saw the first crack in Edward's perfectly constructed confidence. "You're nervous about tomorrow, aren't you?"

"A few nerves are good before a game. Jasper says so," he said on auto-pilot.

"But that's not what you're feeling right now, is it? This isn't a few nerves." Though his face was a practiced calm, his eyes betrayed him. He was terrified.

Edward didn't get a chance to respond, since Jasper chose that very inopportune moment to walk up to us. "Hey, buddy! Where're you going?"

"To our lunch table," Edward said. "Aren't you coming?"

"Actually the day before a game, it's tradition that the team sits together." Jasper jerked his head toward a couple tables in the cafeteria that had been pulled together. "It's all about comradeship and team spirit. You _have_ to sit with us. I saved you a seat next to me."

Edward shook his head uncertainly. "But Bella…"

"Bella understands," Jasper said. "Don't you, Bella? The coach thinks it's a great idea, and we all know great minds think alike." He winked.

I opened my mouth to reply (though I wasn't sure what I could say to that), but Jasper had already thrown his arm over Edward's shoulder. "So you nervous about the game tomorrow?" he asked, leading Edward over to the team's table… away from me.

"Uh, yeah. A bit," Edward said distantly, throwing a regretful glance back in my direction.

"I'm telling you, it's going to be completely different tomorrow. Once the adrenaline kicks in, you're going to be unstoppable. You're going to be fuckin' Babe Ruth. Trust me."

It was like a tug of war. Edward was the rope, Jasper my opponent, and I was losing my grip.

_**. . .**_

"I'm going to Avada Kedavra whoever this is," I said groggily into the phone. Who the hell had the audacity to call my house at 6:30 AM on a Saturday?

"I can't do this!"

I jerked up, immediately alert. "Edward? What's going on?"

"You were right. Of course you were. It isn't just nerves. I could barely sleep last night because I was so worried about the game. And let's admit it, I'm not that good. And what if the adrenaline doesn't kick in and I still suck in front of the entire school? And what if I let the entire team down when they need me most? And there's something else. It's a bad omen. I know it is. I just know it."

"What do you mean by an omen?" I asked, trying to keep up with his panicked ramblings.

"A pimple. I woke up with a pimple the size of a watermelon right on my cheek. I never get pimples. You know I have a fairly spotless complexion as far as teenage boys go. And there it is, smack-dab in the middle of my cheek. The size of a mongoose egg, I tell you! It's a sign. It's a sign that today is going to be a very bad day."

"Edward, calm down. Take a couple deep breaths," I said, breathing deeply myself. Edward had never been so agitated and it was freaking me out.

He did as I requested and seemed calmer when he talked again. "What am I going to do?"

"Right now, keep yourself from hyperventilating. I'll be there in thirty minutes, okay?"

"Okay."

I hopped out of bed and grabbed a t-shirt and jeans from my dresser. "And Edward?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

"I love you, too. Please hurry."

Charlie was already awake, or rather _still_ awake, since it looked like he hadn't gotten a wink of sleep. He was in the kitchen having a cup of coffee while he looked over baseball plays. Probably guessing the reason, he dropped everything when I told him I needed to get to the Cullen's.

The drive was tense. Charlie tried to make conversation, but I wasn't in the mood to talk to him. I was worried about Edward and a small part of me blamed my dad for this whole mess. I didn't even wait until the car was fully parked before jumping out and, without bothering to knock, running up to Edward's bedroom. He was sitting in his computer chair with his head between his legs, already wearing his baseball uniform.

"Edward?" I said, running over to him. He looked up at me and a gasp fell from my lips.

Holy shit, that was a huge zit.

"I'm so sorry," I said, kneeling in front of him. "Does it hurt?"

Edward chuckled bleakly. "It's a pimple, not a bullet wound."

"Well, fortunately, I came prepared." I reached into my purse and pulled out a bottle of concealer.

He looked at me in horror. "You want me to wear make-up?"

"Oh, don't be such a drama queen. You had to wear make-up for the play last year. It's not that big of a deal."

"That was completely different and you know it."

"Well, it's either this or you can walk around all day looking like you have a third eye."

Edward grudgingly gave in. "Fine. But I thought you got rid of all this stuff in eighth grade."

I put a dab of the concealer onto an applicator. "I got rid of some of it, but this is damn useful when I need to cover up a blemish."

"You never have blemishes," he mumbled, lifting his hand and caressing my cheek.

"That's because I do a good job," I said. "So trust me."

"I'd trust you with my life."

I smiled and started applying the concealer. "Tell me about what's going on. Besides the zit."

"I feel like everyone expects me to do so great. I hate disappointing people…"

How could I say this diplomatically? "I don't think they have high expectations of you, so much as they're trying to make you feel better."

"Wow, thanks."

"Well, what do you want me to say? The last thing you need is another person telling you how great you're going to be," I said. "The fact is, you might be great or you might suck or you might fall somewhere in between. But you can't go out there playing for anyone other than yourself. Even if they do have high expectations, who cares? This is about you, not them."

"You see, I know you're right. I _know_ it. But I think it's one of those things that's easier said than done."

"Yeah, kind of like covering up this zit."

"How's it looking?"

"Horrible," I said honestly. So much concealer was needed that the already gigantic zit now looked like a smaller version of Mount Everest. "I think it's time to abandon this and go to Plan B."

"Which is what?" he asked as I dug in my purse.

"War paint." I held up a tube of Eye Black. I had planned to give it to him after the game today as a congratulatory gift, but now seemed like the right time. "Do you want it under one eye or both?"

Edward was looking at the bottle skeptically. "What do you think?"

"One eye is a fashion statement. Both eyes has more to do with the practical application of keeping the sun out of your eyes."

"We live in Forks. There is no sun," Edward said.

"Then a fashion statement it is." I took the cap off the tube. "Do you want to do it or do you want me to?"

"You, of course. And just so you know, I'm not exactly cool enough to pull it off."

"Tell the guys it was your girlfriend's way of wishing you good luck." I lifted the tube and smeared a black line across his cheek. It covered his pimple perfectly and gave him a sort of rogue, badass look (which was weird, since he was Edward). "There," I said happily. "It's perfect. Have a look."

He walked over to the vanity mirror above his dresser and burst out laughing the second he caught a glimpse of himself.

"What is so funny?" He didn't look bad at all.

"I realized… Bella, you spent the last ten minutes touching up a pimple on my face without so much as a second thought. You _must_ love me."

_**. . .**_

In spite of all of Jasper's predictions of adrenaline and Babe Ruth grandeur, the game was not going well for the rest of the team. Naturally, Jasper excelled and every time he stepped up to the plate, the crowd went wild. I sat there, grating my teeth dangerously and trying not to jeer as he waved and posed to the masses like some kind of superstar.

"That kid is going somewhere," I heard an older man say to his cohort from behind me. "He's got talent."

He'd said that at least twenty times in the past seven innings and it was slowly driving me crazy. More of the town's population had shown up for the game than I expected. The bleachers were overflowing, and I was scrunched between Carlisle and Angela on the first row. Lawn chairs and picnic blankets were procured for those people who couldn't fit in the stands. The town's people were interested in seeing what the Chief of Police could do with the Fork's High baseball team. So far, people were disappointed and they weren't quiet in voicing their remonstration.

Every time one of the less than superior batters walked up to the plate, the crowd would make an audible groaning noise. Unfortunately, Edward was amongst those they had deemed abysmal, and I prayed he wasn't able to hear their objections from down on the field.

"Not this kid again," the man behind me said. "I tell you, only made the team because he's the Chief's daughter's boyfriend."

That was it. I whipped around. "You better watch it."

"Oh, hello, Miss Swan," the man greeted, nonplussed. I recognized him as Officer Stevens. "I didn't recognize you there with your little baseball hat."

"Yeah, yeah," I said, irritated by his condescending tone. "Just watch what you're saying, buddy."

Officer Stevens looked stunned that I had the nerve to speak to him like that. "Now, Miss Swan, I've worked with your father for a long time, and I know Edward from the office," he said, as if those facts alone trumped my being the Chief's daughter and Edward's girlfriend. "I think I know what I'm talking about."

"Like you knew what you were talking about when you told my father you thought my boyfriend was gay?"

He snorted. "Oh, yeah, and guys with girlfriends _never_ come out of the closet."

My eyes narrowed. "I may look small and scrawny, but my father taught me how to punch like a mother fu—"

"Now, now, Bella. Let's not threaten and insult the fastidious police officer who's possibly armed," Carlisle said, putting an arm around my shoulder and turning me so I was looking at the field again.

"Did you hear what he said?" I asked indignantly.

"Yes, and it makes me as mad as it makes you, but there's no reason to exacerbate the situation."

"I dare him to arrest me," I said loudly. "I dare him to lay one freaking finger on me."

"Edward needs us now." Carlisle nodded toward the field. He was right; Edward was standing stiffly over the plate. I took a deep breath and let it out, praying that this would be the one for him. We were losing thirteen to four and the only reason we had the few runs we did was because of Jasper. We already had two outs, so I knew Edward was feeling the pressure.

He raised his bat shakily and took his stance. The pitch was thrown. He swung and missed.

"Strike one!" the umpire shouted and the crowd grumbled.

"It's all right, Edward!" I called, hoping he could hear me over the hisses and catcalls. "You're doing fine!" Stevens scoffed from behind me.

Edward didn't swing at the second pitch, though it was within his strike zone.

"Strike two!" pierced the air, loud and clear.

"Edward, it's fine!" Carlisle and Angela shouted with me this time.

"Wait for your pitch!" I added.

Edward glanced up nervously in our direction. I gave him an encouraging smile and swiped a finger across my right cheek. It was exactly where his own line of Eye Black rested and I hoped he knew I was sending him good luck.

He nodded and turned back to the pitcher, raising his bat once more.

Something caught my attention in the corner of my eye, and I looked down to see Charlie staring peculiarly at me from the dugout. I gave him the best smile I could. He only managed a grimace in return, then turned back to the game.

When the third strike was called, I wasn't watching Edward. I was still studying my father. His gaze flitted to the ground for a long moment, and when he looked back up, his face held no disappointment for Edward. In its stead there was sorrow and guilt, as if he felt he had failed Edward and the team as a coach. My heart ached for him almost as much as it did for my boyfriend. Sometimes I took for granted how much Charlie meant to me.

My attention was immediately brought back to the game when a gruff voice shouted from the crowd, "There goes the no-hitter!" as Edward walked back to the dugout. Though I'm sure no one else caught the way Edward infinitesimally paused and hung his head, I knew he had heard. I felt tears sting my eyes.

Charlie clapped Edward on the shoulder as he entered the dugout and whispered a few words. Edward nodded and took his seat on the bench, burying his head in his hands. I couldn't take much more of this, and from the looks of it, neither could Edward. I only prayed it would be over soon.

The last two innings passed quickly and Edward mercifully hadn't had to take the bat again. He'd even managed to catch a fly ball from his position on second base, ending the eighth inning, but I could see it didn't do anything to lighten his spirits from the appalling final score of 14-5.

Carlisle, Angela, and I sat stagnant in our seats as the crowd dispersed and the disillusioned Forks Spartan team filed into the locker room for their post-game pep talk. I wondered what Charlie would say to them.

There was barely anyone left in the bleachers when Carlisle spoke. "So, Bella, who do you want to take?"

"Edward." He needed me more right now.

"Why did I even ask?" He smiled good-humouredly. "I'll go talk to Charlie. He'll be in his office after the locker room pep-talk?"

I nodded. "We'll meet you there."

Angela and I headed to the locker room and leaned against the fence as we waited. One by one the boys emerged, all appearing browbeaten and demoralized. We lingered for several minutes, and when neither Jasper nor Edward exited, I started to get worried.

Just as I was about to knock down the door, Jasper appeared. "He's in rough shape. I'd stay, but my mom's waiting."

I tried to repress the small surge of victory that I was going to be the one to comfort Edward. It was, after all, _my_ job to do so as his girlfriend. "I got this one," I said, opening the door.

"Uh, Bella, that's the boy's locker room."

"So?" I asked, daring Jasper to try and stop me.

He shrugged. "It's empty besides Edward. Go on in."

I tried to hide my eye roll. As if I needed his permission. Upon entering the room, I saw Edward sitting rigidly on a locker room bench. He was still in his baseball uniform, staring down blankly at his hands.

"How're you doing?" I asked.

"I don't get it," he said after a moment. "I have played video games my entire life. And yet, when it comes to baseball, my hand-eye coordination is non-existent."

"Well, maybe baseball isn't something that can be learned by video games."

"I don't get it," Edward repeated.

I sat next to him. The devastated way in which Edward's shoulders slumped and his voice cracked broke my heart, and I didn't know what I could say to make him feel better. "At least you're not the worst person on the team."

Edward snorted. "How do you figure?"

"Did you see Mike miss that easy catch in right field? He wasn't paying attention and it fell down about three feet in front of him. I thought Charlie was going to burst a blood vessel! And Tyler! My God, he actually threw a baseball over the first baseman's head and into the crowd."

"Yeah, I suppose…" he said, not sounding convinced.

"I hate to be the one to tell you this, but the entire team kind of blows," I said. Then added as a disappointed afterthought, "Well, except for Jasper, of course." Edward looked shocked, as if that thought had never crossed his mind before. "And you, you're actually a decent second baseman compared to the rest of the team. As for batting, you just need to find the right motivation."

"Jasper says that. I've tried all sorts of things. Like imagining that my bat is a sword and the baseball is the head of a Uruk-hai," Edward said seriously. "And still… nothing."

I smiled. "I know _Lord of the Rings_ makes your heart tick, but maybe it isn't the right thing."

"That isn't what makes me heart tick."

"Then what is?" I asked, wracking my brains for his other passions.

He looked at me, then, in such an incredulous, yet intense and loving manner, I thought it would pierce my heart.

"Oh, right," I said stupidly.

He was silent for several long moments. "Can I admit something to you?"

"Of course. You know you can tell me anything."

"But this is something horrible."

"It's all right. Tell me."

He took a deep breath. "I imagined that you were being attacked by the Urak-hai baseball, and I still couldn't hit it."

Dear Lord, I tried not laughing, but how could I not? "Oh my God, Edward! I love you so much, you have no idea," I choked through my giggles.

"Bella! This is serious! I feel like I failed you."

"No, Edward." I smiled, grabbing both his hands and moving so I was kneeling on the ground in front of him. "You could never, ever fail me. I feel so lucky that out of every girl in the school you chose me."

Edward was shaking his head. "No, you chose _me_—"

"Shut up. This is _my_ pep talk." I smirked, happy to see that he was now fighting a smile. "As I was saying, I feel so lucky and so blessed that you chose me, out of everyone, to share your life with. And the fact that you're trying all these new and different things is amazing! Even if you aren't the best at them, it doesn't mean that you failed me or Charlie or Jasper or anyone, or even that you failed at all. It inspires me that you're even trying. That's what's important."

He let out a breath. "How can I ever express what you mean to me?"

"You somehow manage to every day, even if you don't know it."

He shook his head sadly. "No, I don't think I do. I don't think I can." He let that rest between us before giving my hands a squeeze and saying, "I need a couple minutes."

It hurt that Edward wanted to be by himself, especially after what I felt had been a superb pep talk (certainly much better than anything Jasper could have come up with). "I understand you need to be alone. I'll see you soon."

He looked at me in surprise. "It's not that I don't want you here," he said. "Trust me, just looking into your beautiful brown eyes makes me feel a million times better, but I have to change out of my uniform before we can go home."

Oh. Edward was about to get undressed. Something tingled in my stomach and my cheeks grew warm… only it wasn't out of embarrassment or any other emotion I was familiar with.

Edward. Undressed.

Edward. Naked.

Edward. _Nude_.

"I'll wait for you outside," I squeaked, now desperate to remove myself from the locker room.

"And Bella?" Edward called. I looked back him. "I'm going to be fine. I promise. Don't worry, okay?"

_Nope. _"Sure."

Angela was still leaning against the fence when I exited. "How's he doing?"

"Thoroughly disappointed, I think."

She didn't answer, but what was there to say? I stewed in my thoughts and realized how shaken the sight of Edward distraught had made me. Why was this so hard for me? I could take rejection, public humiliation or degradation, practically anything, and survive. But seeing Edward so defeated and sad was killing me—it was tearing me up from the inside out.

"This is all Jasper's fault!" I said.

"How do you figure?" Angela asked cautiously.

"I mean, if he hadn't… if he hadn't practically _forced_ Edward to join the baseball team, then given him false hope that he'd immediately be brilliant at a game he'd never played before, Edward wouldn't be suffering right now." Angry tears sprung into my eyes as I ranted to my best friend. "God, and it's my fault, too, because I was the one who tried to change Edward in the first place. I was the one who forced him to sit through all those lunches and meet new guys. It was all me. It's entirely my fault. I'm so stupid."

"No, you aren't," Angela said, rubbing my back. "You did what you thought was best and it was the right thing to do."

"It wasn't," I said stubbornly. "I wish I could take it all back. I wish I could jump in a time machine and go back to the day they met and prevent it from happening. Why can't I do that?"

"Because it's impossible."

"It's not that hard!" I said. "It's just breaking down molecules and reestablishing them in another place and time!"

Angela tried hard to suppress a laugh at my absurd statement, I could tell, but suddenly we were both giggling so hard we couldn't stop. It took several moments for us to regain composure.

"Oh, Merlin's beard," I said, wiping the tears off my face. "I'm getting too old for this kind of nonsense."

"You're fifteen," Angela said. "This is exactly the kind of nonsense you should be worrying about."

"Yeah, I guess you're right."

"Seriously, though, do you really wish you could take it back?" she asked.

"Some days, yes. Some days, no. I don't know, to be honest."

"Do you feel like Edward's replaced you?"

"Absolutely not." That was one thing I was sure of. "You can't replace what we have. But beyond that, I can't figure out what the problem is. I like Jasper and I appreciate that he makes Edward happy… but I cannot _stand _him," I admitted.

Angela thought about it for a second. "Jasper's energy is concentrated on Edward. I think it's kind of like how Edward used to be with you before Jasper came along."

"You think Jasper is gay?" The thought had crossed my mind…

"Heavens, no," Angela said. "He doesn't have that vibe. Jasper has had a lot of friends, but I don't think he's ever had a _best_ friend. It's an anomaly to him and I think that's why he's so determined to make their friendship something special."

"That makes sense." I nodded along with her theory. "But his efforts are backfiring. He needs to let Edward live his life, just like I do." I realized, then, that Jasper needed a hobby. Baseball season would have provided that, but then he dragged Edward into it. What Jasper needed was a distraction he could have that Edward couldn't. What Jasper needed was a…

It was like fate how Alice jumped out of the stands at the precise moment I had thought it, as if she knew exactly what I was about to say.

Oh, fuck it.

"What Jasper needs is a girlfriend."

_**. . .**_

**A/N**: A huge thank you to my dear friend and beta, **xsecretxkeeperx**, who spent a lot of time over the past few weeks going over these chapters with me. You are awesome!

Up Next..._ Chapter Twenty-Two: The First Time She Made a Frenemy_


	26. The First Time She Made a Frenemy

**An Introduction to Swirl and Daisy: The Non-Romantic Romance**

Disclaimer: Any Twilight characters that may appear in this story belong to Stephenie Meyer. The remainder is my original work. No reproduction is allowed without my written consent.

_Chapter 22: The First Time She Made a Frenemy_

_**. . .**_

_**SwordOfAragorn**: What are you up to tonight?_

_**Potterphile1988**: talking to my mom on the phone. you packing for tomorrow?_

_**SwordOfAragorn:** Yes. I know it's only an overnight trip, but it's taking forever to pack. I thought I'd take a little break to see what you were doing._

_**Potterphile1988:** i'm glad you did. i am sooooooo bored._

I had been working on new design codes for MyT-Spot in my bedroom, when Renee had called to grill me on every aspect of my life. It's not that I didn't enjoy talking to my mom, I really did miss her, but she had a tendency to get carried away. We'd already been talking for two hours tonight and it didn't sound like we'd be stopping any time soon.

_are__ you__ still __nervous? _I typed via AOL Instant Messenger, half-listening to my mom ramble on about the injustice of overpriced shoes at Payless.

_**SwordOfAragorn**: A little. But not to worry, Cherry Blossom. Over the last few months of losing dreadfully, I've learned to look defeat right in the eyes and have a good laugh. I expect to laugh a lot this weekend._

_**Potterphile1988:** lol, i'm sure you will. and what is that?_

_**SwordOfAragorn:** What is what?_

_**Potterphile1988**: cherry blossom — what is that? i noticed you've been throwing a lot of weirdness out there lately._

"So honey, how's the baseball team doing?" Renee asked, finally ending her ten minute diatribe on false representation.

"Dad is taking the whole team to Seattle for a two-day tournament tomorrow. I'm prepared for the worst. They're improving, but they still suck," I said.

"Even Edward?"

"Especially Edward."

_**SwordOfAragorn**: Oh, that! You call me Swirl, so I've just been trying to find the perfect pet name for you. No success yet, though._

"Really? He's not doing well?"

"Well, he's a decent second-baseman, but it's over halfway through the season and he still has yet to actually hit a ball."

"It sounds like what he needs is a homerun."

_**SwordOfAragorn**: I have a whole list of names I've been meaning to try out._

"I couldn't agree more," I mumbled.

_**SwordOfAragorn**: Hugglepuff, Boo Boo Bear, Cutie Pie, Cauliflower Crumbles, Berry Bloom… shall I continue or do you like any of those?_

"Just make sure you're using protection."

"Uh-huh," I said, absentmindedly reviewing his list again. "Wait — what?"

"Maybe he could use some lessons from an actual minor-league baseball player," she rushed to say.

I looked up from the computer. "What are you talking about, Mom?"

"Maybe it's time for you and Edward to come visit me. I want to meet him!" I could practically see her bouncing up and down on the other end of the phone.

"I don't know. I think we have a busy summer planned."

_**Potterphile1988**: what are we doing this summer?_

"Oh, come on! I haven't seen my own daughter in _decades_," she said. "I miss you!"

"I miss you too, Mom. Why don't you come to Forks?"

"I will if I have to, but I think you should come out here where it's warm. We can sit on the beach and gossip while Phil teaches Edward a thing or two about baseball. We have the most beautiful view of…"

_**SwordOfAragorn**: There's this baseball summer camp in Oregon that Jasper and I are going to for a couple weeks in July._

I froze.

_**SwordOfAragorn**: I could have sworn I told you?_

_**Potterphile1988**: you didn't_

_**SwordOfAragorn**: Oh, Bella, I am infinitely sorry!_

_**SwordOfAragorn:** Please don't be angry…_

_**Potterphile1988**: i'm not_

I totally was.

"… and, if you can believe it, they actually have vendors who sell snow cones and hot dogs right on the beach! It's absolutely fabulous! What do you say?"

_**SwordOfAragorn**: What can I do to make it up to you?_

_**Potterphile1988**: don't worry about it. i think i'll be in florida anyway visiting my mom._

"It sounds like fun. Count me in as long as Charlie's all right with it," I said.

She squealed on the other end of the phone. "I can't wait to see my baby again and meet my future baby-in-law!"

"Please don't call Edward that again, for my sake. And also, I don't think he's going to be able to come. He's got this baseball camp thing with his friend Jasper."

_**SwordOfAragorn**: Oh, that will be fun…_

"That sucks! You should ask him to come to Florida anyway."

_**Potterphile1988**: it will be_

"I might. I think I'm going to go to bed. Long day at school and all."

_**Potterphile1988**: i'm off to bed. i'll see you when you get back from seattle. good luck tomorrow!_

"All right, Sweetie. We'll talk dates later. I can't wait to see you!"

"Me too! Love you!" I hung up the phone as I received another AIM from Edward.

_**SwordOfAragorn**: I'll miss you tomorrow and Saturday. Goodnight, my precious Cuddlecake._

_**Potterphile1988**: if you EVER call me cuddlecake again, I'm going to start calling you something horrible._

_**SwordOfAragorn**: Such as what, my darling Cuddlecake?_

_**Potterphile1988**: sparkle queen!_

_**SwordOfAragorn**: I like it. ;)_

_**Potterphile1988**: I hope you have nightmares. badnight, sparkle queen!_

_**SwordOfAragorn**: Sweet dreams and goodnight to you too, Pretty Peach._

Closing my laptop, I glanced at my dresser where Miss Elizabeth Bennet was peering peculiarly at me through his cage bars. "I know," I said. "But Edward does have some good qualities, too. Like his body. He has a nice body."

Miss Elizabeth Bennet shook his head and went back to running on his wheel.

"He's a good kisser," I added, before turning out the light and snuggling under my blankets. "He's also rich."

I drifted off to the erratic rhythm of the skeptical mouse's spinning wheel.

_**. . .**_

Charlie had outright refused to take me to Seattle with the baseball team for the two-day tournament. In his mind, Edward and I sleeping under the same roof, albeit in different hotel rooms with both Edward's interminable devotion to abstinence and the Chief of Police standing in our way, would drive our hormones so exceedingly mad with lust that we would be powerless against the urges of our bodies and do something stupid.

I argued vehemently with him about the ridiculousness of his insinuation, but Charlie refused to budge, eventually shutting me up by revealing way too much information about the night I was conceived. After that debacle, I decided my talents would be more useful in persuading Charlie I was too old for a babysitter (I was fifteen years old, after all). He only conceded when I promised to have a friend come spend the night with me.

He assumed I was asking Angela, but I had someone else in mind.

"Hello, Alice," I said, opening the front door for her. As much as I would have loved to spend my night of freedom with someone I actually liked, I'd been procrastinating on my Diabolical Plot to Get Jasper a Girlfriend. I couldn't foresee another opportunity presenting itself where I could talk to Alice for an extended period of time to find out if she was the right person for the job without Edward and Jasper knowing.

"Hello. Thank you for having me," Alice said as she struggled through the doorway, bogged down with a large suitcase and an extra duffle bag.

"Uh, you do realize this is a one night deal, right?" I asked, peeking at the luggage. "You're not moving in with me."

"No duh. I have necessities that, I'm sure, a Simpleton like you couldn't understand," she said flippantly. Wow, not five seconds in and she was already on Strike One (I was into baseball terminology these days). "Some help would be nice, though."

It was so like Alice to insult someone and then expect them to help her. "I think not. I wouldn't want my 'Simpleton' hands to soil Your Highness' royal luggage."

"What kind of hostess are you?" she asked, frowning.

"I'm not here to impress you. You're here to impress me, remember?" I could hear her teeth grinding in irritation. "But I will happily show you where you can put your stuff." I started up the stairs to my bedroom. I only got the smallest bit of satisfaction from hearing Alice pant and groan as she struggled up after me.

When we arrived, she dropped all her crap to the floor with one loud sigh and slumped over in the chair next to my window. That is, until she looked to her right, let out a loud scream, and jumped from the chair quicker than I could have believed possible.

"What is that?" she asked loud enough for the entire neighborhood to hear.

I giggled. "That is Miss Elizabeth Bennet, my pet mouse."

Alice wrinkled her nose. "You keep a rodent in your bedroom?"

"Excuse me, but Miss Elizabeth Bennet is _not_ a rodent. He is a mouse. The best mouse there ever was."

"_He_ is a mouse? Shouldn't _Miss_ Elizabeth Bennet be a she?"

"No. I said what I meant."

She looked perplexed but didn't question me further. "Just don't expect me to touch it or anything."

"I wouldn't let you touch Miss Elizabeth Bennet, even if you wanted to. He's in a delicate condition as of late." Though, admittedly, it would have been hilarious to see Miss Elizabeth Bennet poop in Alice's hand.

"Whatever. Let's get down to business. What's the plan?" she asked, choosing a seat at my desk instead.

"I'm glad you asked." I sat in the chair next to hers. "I took the liberty of typing up an outline."

"Bella's Diabolical Plot to Get Jasper a Girlfriend," Alice read off the cover page. "Diabolical, eh?"

"It has to be in order to undo the mess you've created since freshman year."

"That's a little unfair, don't you think?"

"You're a stalker. I think it's plenty fair."

She looked like she could breath fire. "Stop with the insults and cut to the chase. How long until I get to be with Jasper?"

"_If_ I decide to help you out, and that's a major _if_, I think it's going to take about a year. Possibly longer."

"A year!" Alice squeaked. "You expect me to wait a year?"

"Hey, it's not my fault you've made such a bad impression on Jasper! And also, that's a year I have to wait, too!"

She sat back in her seat angrily. "I've already had to wait almost two years! How is this fair?"

"It's not like we're starting with a clean slate, here. Yes, you've had to wait two years and that's two years of damage we have to undo. What did you expect?"

She seemed to consider that for a moment and apparently decided it was reasonable. "Well, this plan better be good, then."

"The plan is excellent and you better start being a bit more cooperative or I might change my mind and try my hand at setting him up with someone less grumpy."

Alice looked furious but reluctantly sat back and gestured for me to continue.

"It's a six-stage process," I said, turning to page two of my outline. "First: Fanatical Discontinuation. You have to stop acting like a crazy stalker. Second: Personality Replacement. You need to learn how to be a good person. Third: Re-Introduction to Society. This is going to be the hardest since we'll have to come up with a believable explanation as to why we're suddenly hanging out and pretending we like each other." I shuddered at the thought. Alice didn't look any happier about it.

"Fourth," I said, "Trick Jasper Into Falling In Love With You. In order for this to happen, you're going to have to trust me inexplicably and do everything I say. Fifth: Pretend He Doesn't Exist. Nothing drives a man crazy like a girl who was into him, who isn't into him anymore, who he now wants to be into him. In other words, you are going to have to act like you couldn't give two silver sickles about him.

"Sixth: Happily Ever After. I have something special planned for this last stage to seal the deal, which I will tell you if and when you manage to complete all five stages. And, let me tell you, this last stage has the power to drive Jasper to the point of madness with admiration for you. And it comes with a ninety-seven percent guarantee of marriage and babies."

Alice's eyes glazed over in a trance. "What is it?"

"What part of I'm-only-telling-you-if-you-manage-to-complete-the-first-five-stages did you not understand?"

"Oh." Alice blinked herself awake. "I got caught up in my fantasy when you mentioned babies — you know, from imagining having sex with Jasper."

My back stiffened. "Oh, wow. That was a mental image I did not need."

Alice giggled maliciously. "You are such a virgin."

"True, but back on topic: Before any of that can happen, I need you to fill this out." I reached over and grabbed the most recent issue of _Seventeen_ magazine, opening it to the page I had bookmarked.

"_Are__ You __and __Your __Crush __Meant __to __Be?_" she read aloud. "_Take__ this __quiz __and __find __out._ This is a joke, right?"

"How else am I supposed to know if you're compatible with Jasper? You both take the quiz, and I'll decide if I want to help you. _Seventeen_ is a very insightful resource."

She pushed the magazine away in disgust. "Why don't you just trust me? We're meant to be. I don't need a magazine to tell me what I already know."

I pushed the magazine back at her. "Be that as it may, I'd still prefer a non-biased opinion."

"It's a magazine. Inanimate objects can't have opinions. And why do you care anyway? You think Jasper needs a girlfriend and I'm more than willing."

I smiled cynically. "Jasper may be the Cedric Diggory to my Harry Potter, but he's also my boyfriend's best friend. I'm not about to try and set him up with someone he's not going to be happy with. I do care about his feelings… most of the time."

"I don't need stupid quizzes to know that Jasper and I are meant to be together. I'm psychic," she said, tapping her forehead.

I laughed loudly, slapping my knee in hilarity. She was a hoot when she wasn't being a crazy bitch. Alice shot me an incensed look and I gasped. "You're serious?" I sputtered through unrestrained giggles.

"Yes, I'm serious." Reaching into her backpack, she pulled out a black, round-shaped object. "This is Trelawney, my Magic 8-Ball. Together, we know all."

It took me several long moments to form words, and even then I could think of nothing to say. Laughing seemed to say it all.

"Laugh all you want." Alice sourly crossing her arms. "Trelawney has predicted loads of things—"

"Wait." I stopped her in astonishment. "When you say Trelawney, do you mean _Sybil_ Trelawney? You read _Harry __Potter_?"

Alice sat up straighter. "_Harry__ Potter_ is a universal sensation. It's not only for unpopular losers."

I didn't think I would ever get over the shock of having something in common with Alice.

"Stop looking at me like that!" she demanded. "You look like a gaping baboon. I can have layers if I want to!" She shifted uncomfortably and changed the subject. "Trelawney knew I was going to be Cinderella in last year's musical. She knew I was going to flunk my Algebra test last week. And she knows that Jasper and I will end up together one day. Why is that so hard to believe?"

"Because it's a freaking Magic 8-Ball." Despite it's awesome name.

"You could at least try to be open-minded."

I attempted to keep a straight face. "Fine. Show me what you've got."

"Just watch." She closed her eyes and straightened up dramatically, holding the ball dexterously in her fingertips. "Trelawney, will Jasper and I get married one day?" After shaking the ball three times, she set it down delicately on the desk. It read: _Signs __point __to __yes_. "See!" Alice pointed at the ball enthusiastically. "She says that every time!"

I raised my eyebrows at the absurdity of it all.

"Okay, not every time. But nine times out of ten isn't bad! And I've never gotten an outright no."

"That doesn't prove anything! And I thought inanimate objects couldn't have opinions."

She balked. "This is completely different."

"But it really isn't."

"You think I'm insane."

"Signs point to yes."

"I swear it, Trelawney knows everything!"

"Do you know anything about _Harry __Potter_?" I asked, reaching for the Magic 8-Ball.

She snatched the ball up before my fingers could get anywhere close. "No one besides myself is allowed to touch her or the magic will be gone."

"I want to see if it really works. You should at least let me try."

"You can't touch her."

"Great. Then I will ask the question and you can do the weird voodoo-shake thing. No physical contact needed."

She looked at me skeptically. "What are you going to ask?"

"Excuse me, that's private," I teased.

"Whatever. But only this once."

"Okay, then. Are you ready? Because I am, and I think you have to close your eyes or the magic won't work." She shot me a glare, but closed her eyes anyway. "Trelawney, is Alice going to fill out the _Seventeen_ compatibility quiz without further argument?"

"Not happening," she said, shaking the ball three times and set it down on the desk.

I read Trelawney's answer. "Actually, it says 'Without a doubt. Wow. I guess if Trelawney knows everything, you're going to have to shut up and do the bloody quiz."

She glowered at me. "Touché."

The rest of the night went as well as a sleepover with Alice could be expected. Any time we talked, we argued. When she wasn't insulting my mouse, my bedroom, or my wardrobe, she talked about Jasper. Relentlessly. That girl knew things about Jasper that I was positive he didn't know about himself. Like the exact size and brand of his underwear. It was disturbing.

By the time we went to bed, I was absolutely convinced of one thing: There was no way in hell my Diabolical Plot to Get Jasper a Girlfriend was going to include Alice f-word Brandon.

_**. . .**_

The next morning, I took one look at Alice snoring peacefully on the pullout mattress next to my bed, and let out a hushed groan.

"Dear God, it wasn't a nightmare." I rolled out of bed. "Do not fret, Miss Elizabeth Bennet. In a couple hours, Alice will be gone and Edward will be back and all will be right with the world," I said, tiptoeing over to feed him.

Miss Elizabeth Bennet was lying in an odd position that did not look at all comfortable. But then again, who was I to judge what was comfy for a mouse?

I tapped the cage. "Wakey, wakey, little Missy."

He remained motionless.

"I assume you were out late partying with the other mice? Tsk. Tsk. Whatever am I going to do with you?" I nudged the cage harder to wake him up.

When he didn't move, I tilted my head to observe his atypical position closer. His legs and arms were extended unnaturally and his miniature claws curled minutely at the tips. My breathing hitched as it dawned on me that he was never going to wake up again.

Grasping the sides of the cage, I shook it forcefully. "Wake up. Wake up!"

"Just give me five more minutes," Alice moaned from her mattress.

"Please wake up! Please! Please!"

"What the hell? I know you want me out of your house, but geez!"

"Please, wake up!" I implored one last time, letting my fingers loosen on the clear plastic.

"What's going on?" Alice asked once the rattling had come to a sluggish halt and all hope evaporated.

I couldn't answer for several prolonged moments as I stepped back from the cage. "I think… I think my mouse…" the words caught in my throat. I stared down at Miss Elizabeth Bennet's lifeless body. "I think he's dead. Do you mind — can you look to be sure? I want to be sure."

"Um, okay." She stood from the mattress and walked over to me. She remained uncommonly silent, examining the cage with eyes wider than my own. "He looks so rigid."

"I know. I think that's what generally happens when things die. They become stiff, you know? That's how we'll be one day, too."

"That's… really morbid."

"It's the truth, though. One day we'll all be dead and stiff as a board." _Even __Edward_. I shook that thought away. "What should I do about Miss Elizabeth Bennet?"

"What do you want to do? What feels right?"

I thought about it. "I want to call my dad."

"Let's do that, then." Alice picked up the portable phone and handed it to me.

I looked down at it, but the numbers blurred together. "I don't know how to reach him. He's left the hotel by now."

"That's all right. I know Jasper's cell phone number. Maybe he'll pick up." Alice took the phone, dialed in the number, and handed it back to me.

Lifting it to my ear, I listened to it ring three times. I wondered what the last thing Miss Elizabeth Bennet had done before he dropped down dead.

"Bella? Is this you? What's wrong?" It was Edward's voice on the phone, not Jasper's.

"I need to talk to my dad. Is he there?"

"Yes. He's at the front of the bus. What's wrong?"

"Please, I need to talk to my dad. Can you give him the phone?"

"Sure, but what's wrong? Talk to me."

"_Please_!" I said frantically, my nerves fraying as I felt Goosebumps rise on my arms. "Please, I _need_ to talk to my dad! Please give him the phone!"

"Okay, it's going to be all right," Edward said anxiously. "Give me a moment. I have to walk to the front."

"Don't die." There was silence over the phone. "Edward?"

"I promise I won't," he said, despite how strange the request might have sounded.

I turned to Alice. "Edward's getting my dad. They're on a bus."

Placing a hand on my arm, she said, "It's going to be okay."

"Yeah. Once I talk to my dad." In the background I heard Edward explaining what was going on and the gruff undertones of my dad's response. The phone clamored when it exchanged hands.

"Bella, are you there?" Charlie sounded urgent and worried.

"Hi. It's me," I said, turning my back to the cage and walking toward the door.

"Is everything okay? Edward said you were panicked."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry. Tell me what's going on."

I took a shuddering breath. As I opened my mouth to tell him, tears started trickling their way down my cheeks, the reality and harshness of the situation hitting me full force. Suddenly, I was gasping for air.

"You're scaring me. What happened?"

"My mouse died," I sobbed. He let out an audible sigh, but didn't speak. My lip quivered. "Daddy?"

"I'm so sorry," he said. "I know how much you love that mouse."

"I wish you were here. I don't know what to do." For the first time in a long while, I felt my age. I was old enough to spend the night by myself and to be in love, but I was _only_ fifteen.

"When we get home, I'll help you bury Miss Elizabeth Bennet in the backyard." I almost smiled. Charlie had never called Miss Elizabeth Bennet by his name before.

"When will you be home?"

"We have one more game today and then we're headed back. It'll be about six or seven hours."

"I don't want to wait that long." My gut twisted at the thought.

"Well, I suppose we could skip this game and head back early…" he offered.

I wiped the tears from my face. "No, don't do that. Let Edward play. I'll take care of it."

There was a momentary pause on his end of the line. "I have a feeling Edward might want to be there."

"Edward doesn't like mice," I said fondly. I didn't hold it against him, given it was pretty damn adorable.

"But he does like you."

"I'll be fine. I'm not alone." I tossed a look back at Alice. "Where's the shovel?"

"It's in the garage. Make sure to dig a deep hole so Miss Elizabeth Bennet stays buried. I'll call when we're on our way back. And Bella?"

"Yeah?"

"I hope you know that I like you, too. Sometimes I even love you."

I sniffled a chuckle through my tears. "I love you, too. It's going to be all right."

"It is. I'll see you soon."

After hanging up the phone with Charlie, I turned back to Alice. "I'm going to bury Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Do you want to call your mom to come pick you up or something?"

She looked uncertain. "If it's all right with you, can I stay here for a while longer? I promise not to be in the way."

"Sure."

Alice headed to the shower, while I headed outside. It was drizzling, but I appreciated it. The rain had made the ground soggy and easy to burrow. I dug deep, wanting to ensure that this resting ground would be Miss Elizabeth Bennet's last. I had chosen a spot under the giant tree in our backyard, which I imagined he would love if he could see. Focusing strictly on the task at hand made the enormous weight in my chest hollow out, and as the grave grew deeper, my tears grew thinner.

After her shower, Alice hovered in the background, not sure what to do. When I'd finished digging, she tried making me breakfast (which entailed pouring milk into a bowl of cereal), but I didn't have an appetite.

"I think I should just do it." I fidgeted with a spoon that reminded me of the shovel I had been holding not ten minutes earlier. "You can stay in here and finish your breakfast, though."

"No, I'll do it with you," she said.

I wasn't sure I wanted someone who had contemptuously called Miss Elizabeth Bennet a rodent on so many occasions attending his funeral. It wasn't like we were suddenly best friends because she had spent the night. But I didn't feel like fighting, so I ran up to my bedroom to collect Miss Elizabeth Bennet, and then we headed outside to his grave.

Alice kneeled down on the damp grass next to the tree as I placed the cage beside the hole and sat next to it.

"I guess this it, Lizzie." I sniffled, taking the lid off the cage. "I'll miss you so much. I don't know how I'm going to be able to sleep without the sound of your spinning wheel in the background. And I know for a fact that I'll never meet another mouse with your sense of irony. Even if you didn't say much, I know you always knew what I was talking about. I love you and I know one day we'll meet again."

Taking one last good look at him, I reached into the cage to pick up his little body. As my fingers neared him, a sudden flash of horror overwhelmed me and I tugged them back. I was about to touch a dead mouse.

Dead. Mouse.

I was practically convulsing from just the thought of touching the rigid corpse. I reminded myself that this wasn't any dead mouse. It was Miss Elizabeth Bennet. I had to do this. I tried again.

Nope. No way. There was no way my fingers were going anywhere near that mouse.

"Oh my God, I can't do it!" I panicked, breathing unsteadily as tears stung my eyes. "I can't do it. I can't touch him! Miss Elizabeth Bennet is soft and furry. That's how I want to remember him. I can't touch him when he's like this… all… firm. It's gross—"

"Okay, you need to breath or you're going to pass out," Alice said calmly, scooting closer.

"What am I going to do? I can't bury my mouse!"

"Deep breaths!"

"I can't breath! I can't bury my mouse!"

"It's going to be fine."

"No, it's not! No, it's not!" I bawled over and over again.

"Just watch!" she screeched over my wails.

My eyes snapped to her, and then grew wide as I realized what she was about to do. Alice took a deep breath before sticking her hand into the cage. I watched in awe as she delicately picked Miss Elizabeth Bennet up by the tail and laid the dead mouse peacefully into his grave.

We sat there in silence as little driblets of precipitation fell from the sky, crying for Miss Elizabeth Bennet in my stead, since I was too astonished to shed another tear.

I could tell Alice was fighting a look of complete disgust for my sake and despite the amusement that naturally came with a moment like this, I actually felt kind of… a little… in a way… _touched_ by her act.

"Alice?"

"Hmm?"

"I promise I won't be offended if you go wash your hands."

It was comical how relieved she looked. "Thank God. I'll be right back," she yelled behind her, already halfway across the yard.

I watched her run into the house, before turning back to Miss Elizabeth Bennet's makeshift plot and picking up the shovel. "I'm sorry she was the last person to touch you," I whispered into the hole. "But after what she just did, I don't think she can be one hundred percent evil."

_**. . .**_

Walking into the school cafeteria Monday was harder than I'd expected, knowing neither of my two favorite lunch buddies would be there. Angela was making up a history test and Edward was home sick.

He'd stopped by for a couple hours on Saturday to pay his respects to Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Then on Sunday, he'd called to inform me he'd gotten a horrible cold and probably wouldn't be at school the next day.

"That seriously sucks," I'd said sympathetically. I knew how much Edward hated missing school (which was something I never understood, since sick days were akin to mini-miracles in my eyes). "Is the MyT-Spot investment meeting getting cancelled as well?"

"I suppose we probably should reschedule." Edward had let out a forceful sneeze. He'd sounded horrible.

"Uh, may I make a suggestion?" I'd asked.

"Of course, Cuddlecake."

"First off, I suggest that you never call me that again."

"But it has a certain ring to it."

"It really doesn't," I'd said. "And second, what if we didn't postpone the meeting? I know you're sick and feeling awful, but we've already rescheduled this meeting five times since baseball season started and I have loads of stuff to present to you and Mrs. Evans before I can continue working."

Edward had considered it for a moment. "No, I don't think it's a good idea."

"Why not? We'll be at your house where it's comfy, and you can stay in your pajamas if you need to! Your grandma won't mind."

"I don't want to get you sick."

"If you got me sick, I'd consider it the best present you ever gave me."

"Really?" he'd asked, amused. "Even more than the lap- uh, nevermind. Okay, fine. Let's do it. I'll see you tomorrow afternoon."

I was finally going to show Mrs. Evans and Edward what I'd been working on over the past couple of months during baseball practice. It was going to revolutionize the entire MyT-Spot website. I only had to get through lunch and my last couple of classes.

Glancing around the lunchroom, I spotted Jasper sitting alone at our table. I gave myself a mental prod and headed in his direction. Since I was alone today, I figured I might as well make the most of the situation. After all, I still had a mission to accomplish. Despite my earlier misgivings, I'd decided that in light of her valiant actions perhaps Alice's compatibility with Jasper deserved a second glance.

"Hey, Jasper." I pulled out a seat and placed my lunch on the table.

"Hey. I'm sorry to hear about your mouse."

I winced a little. "Thanks. I appreciate that."

"Edward played horribly after he found out."

Biting my tongue so as not to point out that Edward always played horribly, I said, "That's weird. Edward never really liked Miss Elizabeth Bennet."

"I figured it had more to do with being worried about you than anything else."

I smiled fondly. I loved my boyfriend. "You know what's funny? You're Edward's best friend and I don't know that much about you."

He sat up straighter. "I completely agree. We should get to know each other better."

"Great!" I pulled out my notebook, where I had covertly copied the questions from the _Seventeen_ quiz I'd made Alice take on Friday. "What's your favorite food?" I asked, starting off with an easy one.

"Pink Stuff," he said.

I raised my eyebrows. "Huh?"

"Pink Stuff — that's what it's called."

"Oh… that's an odd name for a food."

"Not really, because it's pink. Which," he continued as an afterthought, "is actually a very masculine color, if you think about it. Almost aggressive in a way."

"What's in it?"

"It's pretty much a mixture of red and white." I gawked at him. Jasper's lips turned up at the corners. "You totally got me," I laughed. Jasper was funny when he wasn't being a boyfriend-stealing, overbearing arse. "To clarify, what's in Pink Stuff?"

"Don't I get a question before I have to answer that?"

"What?"

"Isn't that how this get-to-know-you stuff works? You get a question, then I get a question, then you get a question, etcetera."

"I suppose that's fair." I put down my pencil. "What do you want to know?"

He gazed pensively to the ceiling. "Do you think something like _Final __Destination_ is possible?"

"You mean, _Final__ Destination_ the movie?"

"Yeah, the idea that you can escape death, but it relentlessly searches you out later, and you have to die to preserve the balance of the universe."

Death had been on mind since Miss Elizabeth Bennet's passing. I'd wondered, at first, if some neglect on my part had caused his death. Charlie had assured me that it was simply Miss Elizabeth Bennet's time to go. Then he told me how he'd blamed himself when my grandparents died and how he came to accept that it wasn't his fault. After that conversation, the plot behind _Final__ Destination_ seemed too radical to be considered with any legitimacy.

"I don't think it's possible," I said.

"Really? Why not?"

"Ap, ap, ap," I ribbed with a good-natured smirk. "I believe it's my turn."

He looked taken aback, then grinned. "I suppose it is."

"If you could go anywhere in the world, where would it be?"

"To New Zealand to trek the roads of Middle Earth and see the home of my personal hero, Peter Jackson. I got his home address from one of the users that frequents my website." I wrote the term _Stalker_ discretely in my notebook. Things were looking up for Alice. "Back to my question, why don't you think _Final __Destination_ could happen?"

I mulled over how to phrase my response. "Something I've figured out over the past couple of days is that if it's your turn to die, then you _will_ die. You can't escape death and if you think you did, it's because it wasn't your time. So, you shouldn't live in fear of it, which is what a movie like _Final__ Destination _is banking on."

"Never thought of it that way," he said meditatively. "I'm beginning to see some of the intelligence Edward always tells me you have."

He had said that as if it were a compliment, and yet…

"What's your favorite holiday?" I asked briskly, trying to not dwell on his slight.

"Valentine's Day." Noting my disbelieving glance, he clarified: "Despite this manly exterior, I'm very sappy and sentimental. I'm fond of the color pink, and I like to be original. I've only met one other dude in the entire world who likes Valentine's Day as much as I do."

A smile played at my lips. I sat back in my chair, surprised at how much I was enjoying our conversation. "I know who that is. It's kind of a miracle the two of you ended up in the same state."

Jasper nodded. "I think Edward's love for Valentine's Day stems more from sentimental memories than anything else, though."

"Yeah, we officially got together on Valentine's Day." I reflected, and then said, "Twice, actually. The first time was in eighth grade, the second in ninth. We broke up the week before and he showed up to the Valentine's Day Dance dressed as Harry Potter." I laughed at the memory.

"Oh, so that's what that was about." Jasper leaned forward. "I had assumed Edward was just a huge Harry Potter loser back then."

I dropped my grin. "Um, hello. Harry Potter fans are not losers."

"Edward never told me you'd broken up," he said, ignoring my objection. "He said he loved Valentine's Day because it was the first time you told him you loved him."

"It was only for a week." I stared down at a blank spot on my notebook. "I imagine it's hard for him to talk about."

"Why did you break up with him?"

My eyes flicked up and I felt a trace of anger behind them. "What makes you think _I_ broke up with _him_?"

"Oh, come on." He waved his hand airily as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Everyone can see how he is around you. He more than loves you."

"You mean, more than I love him?" How could anyone think that?

He tilted his head to the left. "I only know what I see and hear."

"Then you don't know anything." All remnants of the pleasant conversationalist I'd been moments before dissipated like smoke.

"You haven't answered my question, yet."

I massaged my forehead in exasperation. "I didn't break up with Edward. It was a mutual parting — one that happened in the heat of the moment and made both of us more miserable than anything you can imagine. Forgive me if I'm not particularly keen on that topic of conversation."

"You're not going to tell me why?"

"No." No way in hell.

"Fine, then I get another question."

"Whatever." I cracked open my untouched Diet Coke and took a sip.

"What about Edward do you find attractive?"

I choked on the liquid and some sprayed midway across the table. "I'm sorry, what?"

Jasper smiled broadly. "Too much? I'm curious what it is about Edward that makes you want to be with him."

"No, it's fine." I wiped the table down with a napkin. "Truthfully, the first moment I saw him sitting in front of his computer in Yearbook class, I knew he was the one for me. It was this indefinable, urgent desire that completely consumed me the moment I set eyes on him. It's only grown ever since."

"Really?" Jasper asked, clearly disappointed. "That's it? What about his passion for the written arts? His intelligence? His expressive eyes? His kind smile?"

An errant thought entered my brain that if the CIA were listening in on our conversation, they'd have a hard time figuring out exactly whose boyfriend Edward really was.

"Of course I like all those things. What about you? What qualities do you look for in your ideal girl?" I asked, happy that the next question on the _Seventeen_ quiz provided a smooth transition to changing the rather disturbing direction this conversation had gone.

"Someone who isn't shallow. Someone who has multiple interests and is intelligent. Someone I can talk to." He closed his eyes thoughtfully as he continued. "I imagine someone who is shorter than me, but not too short. Green eyes. Soft hair, some lighter shade, maybe reddish-blonde. Fair skin."

Okay, that was it. I had to know. "And do you imagine this person is female?"

His eyes snapped open. "Of course. Think Miranda Otto's interpretation of Eowyn in _Return__ of __the __King_, if you need a picture."

I let out a sigh. "Great, your turn."

"What makes you good enough to be Edward's girlfriend?"

I almost wished I'd waited for this question to spew my soda. "I beg your pardon?"

"Look, I'm Edward's best friend. It's my job to make sure the person he is with deserves him." Jasper casually leaned back in his chair.

"That's only an excuse if you were best friends with him _before_ I was his girlfriend. If anything, I should be checking you out!"

He glanced toward my notepad. "Isn't that what you're doing?"

I quickly hid it under the table. "This is something completely different."

"Such as what? Notes for a more interesting paper about me in your Sociology class?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Edward told me how you pretended to write a Sociology paper so you could interview boys at lunch and try to find him a friend. Do you always try to change the men you love so much?"

"First off, the Sociology paper was legit." I balked. "And secondly, I highly doubt Edward said anything like that. He knows I did that for him!"

"It was overtly deceptive and rude," he accused.

"It was not! If anything, it was," I paused to think of the right word, "under-vertly deceptive and not rude at all. It was done selflessly!"

"Seems more like the actions of a desperate girl, trying to get her boyfriend off her back."

"How dare you! Do you think this has been easy for me?" I wanted to say how worried I had been for Edward if something ever happened to me, how imagining him alone and miserable broke my heart. I wanted to say I missed him every moment he was away from me and how I longed to have him to myself again. But part of me didn't feel Jasper deserved to know how deeply I loved my boyfriend. Almost as if his knowing would tarnish the purity of my affection in some way; it was only between Edward and me.

"And what about Saturday?"

"What about it?" I practically growled.

"You have no idea how hurt and scared Edward was when you wouldn't talk to him about your mouse."

That was it, my breaking point. "Well, I'm sorry I couldn't be perfect when my pet had died, you arsehole! But don't pretend like you know anything about my feelings for Edward. I love him and know him a hundred times better than you ever will!"

The harsh lines on Jasper's face lightened as a brilliant beam overtook his features. "Wow, you really do love him." Thank God the bell rang and gave me an excuse not to jump across the table and strangle him. "Forgive me for that." He stood from his chair and started packing his half-eaten lunch away. "Congratulations. I wasn't sure you were good enough, but you passed."

With a parting wink, he swept from the table, leaving me an infuriated mess. How dare he? Jasper was new to the whole "best friend" concept, but was he seriously that obtuse? Did he think that a wink and a silly explanation about testing me would make his accusations all right?

I was still stewing over Jasper's little test when Carlisle came to pick me up from school for the MyT-Spot investment meeting. I felt like… well, a little like Jane Bennet in _Pride__ and __Prejudice_. Desperately in love with Mr. Bingley as his best friend conspires to separate them. I frowned. That was so wrong; there was no way Jasper was a Mr. Darcy. He didn't have the temperament or the strength of character.

It was funny, though. Thinking back to Alice and Jasper's first meeting, he had denied her just like Mr. Darcy had denied…

My head jerked up. "Holy shit!"

The car swerved violently as Carlisle stomped on the brakes. "What's wrong?"

"_She __is __tolerable; __but __not __handsome__ enough __to __tempt __me_," Mr. Darcy had said.

It was practically the same thing as, "Sorry, Frosh. You're cute, but I don't do freshmen."

Alice was Lizzie Bennet! I had not seen that one coming!

"Bella, what's wrong!" Carlisle demanded.

"Nothing." I perked up from my revelation. "My life is an Austen novel and I never knew it."

Carlisle seemed torn between amusement and irritation. "All of our lives are Austen novels… only with cars instead of carriages. Cars that could kill us."

I peeked at our surroundings. "Speaking of which, why are we parked in the middle of the street?" Carlisle rolled his eyes and began driving again. "You've been hanging out with Charlie too much."

"How do you figure?"

"Because you just rolled your eyes. You would have never done that before."

He pursed his lips. "I don't recall doing that."

"You definitely did."

"That doesn't sound like me. I'm positive I did not."

"But you did. It was right after I asked why we were parked in the middle—"

"Are you nervous about the meeting today?"

I laughed. "Oh my God! You tried to change the subject! You're becoming my dad!"

"I most certainly am not!"

"You totally are! Next thing you know, you're going to be telling me how bad my cooking is and coaching the baseball—"

"I'm actually curious, though. Are you nervous?"

"You did it again!"

Carlisle's lip twitched, but he didn't take the bait. I settled back comfortably in my seat. It was so weird to think I used to have a crush on him. "I'm not nervous about the meeting. I have a lot of great ideas to present. The laptop you and Miss Evans gave me for Christmas is a God-send. I work straight through baseball practices. I've learned so much about websites and coding. It's unbelievable. Thank you so much!"

He hesitated for a moment. "How mad would you be if I told you that my wife and I didn't actually pay for that computer?"

I was surprised he would mention it. It wasn't good manners to discuss gift finances. "It doesn't matter how you got it. It means so much that you gave it to me."

"Okay, uh," he paused awkwardly, "what if I told you that the gift we got you was _only_ the sapphire necklace and matching earrings?"

A sinking feeling formed in the pit of my stomach. "I don't understand…"

"What if I said the laptop came from an entirely different, very generous benefactor?"

"Mrs. Evans?" I asked hopelessly.

He minutely shook his head.

"Edward?" The feeble tightening of his lips told me everything. "Oh my Godric, I am going to _kill_ him!"

"Right. Then I didn't tell you anything," Carlisle said. Then added, "But if I did tell you, I would also apologize and say that Esme and I had no idea until you jumped on us after you opened the present."

"I don't blame you for the gift." I crossed my arms. "And I only minorly blame you for raising a son who is a compulsive liar."

Carlisle laughed. "Technically he didn't lie. I saw the card. He signed it 'The Cullens.'"

"Now I see where he gets it from! And, by the way, he only counts as one Cullen. Not Cullens, plural."

"It could have been a simple spelling error."

"But it wasn't."

"Do me a favor?" he said, pulling into the driveway. "Go easy on him until his Grandma leaves. Then you can wail on him all you want. Provided, of course, that you leave out the part of me possibly mentioning it."

"Whatever."

Edward was walking down from his bedroom when I entered the house. He was so cute, dressed in sweats and a bathrobe. He carried a roll of toilet paper and a plastic bag that looked full of used tissues.

As Mrs. Evans was sitting in the living room, I kept my promise and didn't berate him about the laptop. I would have felt bad doing it while he was sick anyway. Instead I said, "I'm sorry to make you do this when you aren't feeling well. I didn't think we'd—"

He held up a halting finger. "Galadriel, Galadriel, Galadriel," he paused. "HATCHOO!"

"Okay… what was that?"

Edward unwrapped some toilet paper from his roll. "Jasper says if I say 'Galadriel' when I feel a sneeze coming on, it'll stop it from happening."

"Clearly an infallible plan," I said, irritated at the mere mention of Jasper.

"It was working this morning." Edward turned to blow his nose.

Pretending the loud foghorn noises weren't coming from the boy I constantly made-out with, I carried on. "I didn't think we'd get another chance to do this before the end of baseball season if we didn't do it today."

"You're probably right," he said. "Where are your presentation boards?"

"I've got a PowerPoint presentation that I can hook up to your parent's big screen."

"You're going all tech-savvy on me? That sort of turns me on." Rarely, if ever, did Edward make me blush nowadays. That particular comment made the blood rush to my cheeks quicker than I ever recalled. "Sorry, it's the medication. It makes me foggy and say things without a filter."

"It's quite all right," I said, debating if I should mention my wish that he say stuff like that more often.

"Let's get this show on the road!" Mrs. Evans called from the living room. "I have Bingo tonight."

We took the next few minutes to set up our individual presentations, and then Mrs. Evans and I sat down to listen to Edward first. He presented an analysis of the quarterly figures, stopping every once in a while to sneeze (which was an affair in itself, since he insisted on trying to stop the sneezes with his stupid Galadriel ritual). He then showed us a few of the new t-shirt designs he had found time to come up with over the last months as we ooh'd and aah'd.

"This next one I'm sure is going to be a huge hit." He removed a foam-core board from the easel to reveal another design. It read: _Speak__ Friend __and__ Enter__ Your__ Phone __Number_. "Obviously another shirt for the LotR line, this t-shirt design was…" he hesitated and I tried to stifle my impatience at what was coming. "Galadriel, Galadriel, Galadri-HATCHOO!"

"You know what? Maybe you should try a different word?" I suggested. "Perhaps Dumbledore or Quidditch?"

Edward gave me a look, then turned back to his presentation board. "This t-shirt design was actually submitted by my friend, Jasper Whitlock."

"Your _Lord__ of__ the __Rings_ friend who runs a website we're affiliated with?" Mrs. Evans asked.

"Yes. This brings me to my next item on the agenda." He removed the t-shirt design board to reveal a large photo of Jasper smiling cheekily at the camera, wearing a MyT-Spot staff hat. "I'd like to propose making Jasper a member of our permanent staff."

Though my limbs hardened with marblesque stillness, my heart began beating wildly in my chest. I could hear Edward talking about what an asset Jasper would be to our team, how he'd already contributed countless designs and invaluable experience and blah, blah, blah. I could only focus on one thing: Jasper Whitlock was taking over my life. Participating on a minor scale was one thing, but become a full-fledged member of a project I had devoted so much of my life to?

"No," I heard myself say.

Edward stopped his presentation immediately. "What was that?"

I looked him straight in the eye. "No." This was my job. My life. _Mine_.

"Can't we at least discuss it?" He was visibly shocked at my reaction.

"No, Edward. Just, no."

He stood there gaping at me. Never before in a MyT-Spot meeting had I disputed his ideas or outright shut him down. But this was non-negotiable and he could see it in my eyes.

"Maybe we should move on," Mrs. Evans pressed over the awkward silence.

Shuffling through his notes briefly, Edward tried to reestablish himself. "That was actually all I had." He was clearly shaken by my snub.

"I guess it's my turn, then." I stood and turned on the TV for my PowerPoint.

"We _are_ discussing this later," Edward mumbled when he passed me on his way to the couch.

I remained impervious to his anger. "Fine." Once the fury at the idea of Jasper joining the work team passed, I'd have to figure out how to explain it to Edward. He at least deserved that.

Putting Jasper out of my mind, I focused on the introduction of my presentation, which was on enhancements to the social environment of MyT-Spot. Edward glared through the first half of my speech. I was almost relieved when he changed his attitude and took on a disinterested façade. I launched into my first suggestion of adding in a discussion forum to make the shopping experience interactive.

"We can build a stronger fan base for our account holders. We already have somewhat of a cult following, proven by the amount of repeat traffic that comes to the site."

Mrs. Evans nodded in approval. "I like this a lot. Good thinking! Edward, how do you feel about it?"

Edward looked at PowerPoint for barely a moment. "That's fine," he said with an air of boredom.

"Great!" Mrs. Evans said, unaffected by Edward's lame attitude. "It's unanimous, then. We'll turn MyT-Spot into a social hub. What's next?"

"This next idea is a bit more of a leap, but something that could take the site to a whole other level not yet witnessed by the web." This was the change I was sure Edward would hate the most. "I've started working on a technology that can allow people to create and upload their own designs. They can set up online shops on MyT-Spot and sell their merchandise. We can print and ship the designs on demand—"

"No," Edward interrupted. I ignored him.

"—and take a profit from every shirt sold as a merchant's fee—"

"No," Edward said more adamantly. "That's not what our website is about. What would happen to our entire product line?"

"You can set up a shop, too. It would be a great way to test the prototype once I'm done building it."

"No, Bella. Just, no."

My eyes narrowed. "Is this because I said no to Jasper or because you selfishly can't see that this website could become about more than you? Or perhaps both?"

"I'm against this idea because it's clearly insa—"

"Shush, Edward," said Mrs. Evans, sitting forward. "Bella, can you really design this? It's incredibly advanced."

"It would take a lot of work and a small financial investment on your part. But I've researched this relentlessly over the past few months and have started to learn how to code and build software that could achieve this."

"Didn't anyone hear me?" Edward asked. "I already said no. Since that's apparently the new system we're implementing to make decisions, I say my decision goes."

"Bella could completely revolutionize the website," Mrs. Evans said. "You should listen to her, instead of acting like a stubborn ass." Mrs. Evans was the bomb!

"Yes, it _will_ change the structure of MyT-Spot — into something completely unrecognizable. "

"That's because it will be better," she said.

"Why didn't you ask me about this in private before now?" he hissed at me.

"When exactly would I do that?"

"You could have made time. It was completely unfair of you to spring this on me."

"Yeah, because I wasn't surprised at all when you suggesting making Jasper a full-time staffer." Edward tried to reply, but I wasn't having it. "Besides, it's not like we could really talk in the thirty minutes I see you at lunch. Or did you want me to simply join you in the locker room after practice? I'm sure your baseball buddies would love to sit around and hear me talk about _My__T-Spot_."

"Oh, dear." Mrs. Evans hung her head. "You figured out what that rhymes with."

"You know very well that there's been plenty of time and opportunities to bring this up before now." Edward sat back angrily.

"You mean because you've cancelled this meeting five times to accommodate baseball practice? You realize if you hadn't been so busy with non-work related things, you would have known about this weeks ago."

"Great! Here we go!" Edward's voice cracked on the exclamation. "I'm a horrible person because I'm trying something new. Of course, I am."

"Oh right, because I haven't been supportive _at__ all_," I sniped acerbically. "And I'm the worst girlfriend in the world because every day while you are out there playing baseball with your best buddy, I'm actually working! Maybe if you had once asked what I was doing, we wouldn't be having this discussion right now!"

"Don't pretend like we haven't had any free-time to ourselves to talk about MyT-Spot related things."

"Really? So you'd prefer us to talk business instead of making—" I stopped myself in the nick of time, aware that his grandma was sitting not seven feet away, "ah, time for _watching__ movies_. I think that's a splendid idea."

Edward's lips tightened and his eyes bulged. "You wouldn't dare," he said in a harsh whisper. "You enjoy _watching __movies_ as much as I do."

"Try me."

"Excuse me," Mrs. Evans said. "I do speak teenager and I know exactly what you are saying. I request that you stop immediately for my mental well-being." Edward looked away in embarrassment, while giggled. "Now, Edward, you are being completely irrational. Consider what Bella is proposing."

Edward turned on his grandma. "Why are you defending _her_ ideas and not mine?"

"Oh, sweetie," Mrs. Evans reached over and patted him on the knee, "because her ideas are actually _good_."

That was the wrong thing to say and Mrs. Evans totally knew it. Edward looked like he was about to explode, and she was acutely enjoying it. He looked funny with his hair shooting every which way and his face the shade of a tomato.

"Fine. Bella can have her enhancements on the website if we can take on Jasper as an employee." Edward's calm tone was at war with the ire of his countenance. "There'll be a lot more work and we can certainly use the extra hand."

"No," I said again, this time more resolutely.

"Bella, I'm compromising here. Have you ever heard of a compromise?"

He'd never spoken to me so condescendingly before and it pissed me the hell off. "How about this for a compromise? You hire Jasper and I'll quit. Then you don't have to put up with my improvements for the website."

Edward gaped at me, looking for all the world as though he'd been slapped in the face.

Carlisle cleared his throat from the living room door. "So sorry for the intrusion, but I couldn't help overhearing the dulcet, yet earsplitting, tones of two young people in love quarreling." When nobody said a word to counter his assessment, he said, "I merely come with a request—"

"We'll keep it down," I said, not taking my eyes off Edward. He was sizing me up, trying to figure out how serious I was about my threat.

"It's not so much the volume I mind. It's more the notion that you might break up again. We're getting old, and I don't think either Charlie or I could take it."

I almost laughed. Adults were so silly. "We're not breaking up. We're fighting," I said calmly. The corners of Edward's mouth twitched at my words. Yeah, even with Edward all gross-looking and sick, fighting with him was still hot.

"All right." Carlisle clapped his hands. "As long as it's only an impassioned row and not an untimely end to your relationship, have at him, Bella. Mrs. Evans, would you care to join me for a cup of coffee?"

"No, thank you. This is still a business meeting after all," Mrs. Evans declined joyfully.

"Elizabeth," Carlisle insisted.

She sighed and stood up. "I suppose if you're going to use my name like that. But can you blame me? The arguments of youth are so dang adorable," she said as they walked out of the room. "Especially with your son's head of hair."

Edward raised a hand to his head and started patting his mane down. "How bad does it look?"

"It's adorable. Didn't you hear her?"

He pouted and sat back, hugging his roll of toilet paper like a teddy bear. Of course this imagery was annihilated with the next words out of his mouth. "What is your problem?"

"Oh, it's _my_ problem," I said. "What's your problem?"

"You don't like Jasper."

"I like Jasper just fine." When he wasn't being a fucking douche.

"You threatened to quit if I hired him. That doesn't exactly show the love. So I repeat, what is your problem?"

I wasn't ready to go down that path yet. How did I tell Edward that his best friend questioned my love and devotion for him that afternoon? Speaking of which…

"Do you think you love me more than I love you?" Edward was stunned by the question, so I didn't bother to wait for his reply. "Because that's ridiculous! It's obvious I love you more than you love me. I've proven that time and time again."

"Whoa! One second there, Missy. What the hell are you talking about? Yes, you have proven that you love me, but certainly not more than I love you."

"Oh, come on! I sit in a stadium every damn day and watch you play baseball! That is love."

"Because you have to! I, on the other hand, didn't have to join Musical Theater for you, and did!"

"I sat through _Fellowship of the Rings_ seventeen times in theaters!"

"I sat through _Harry Potter_ and dressed up as him in front of the entire school!"

"I dressed up as Arwen!"

"I gave you a scrapbook!"

"I gave you an Evenstar!"

"I gave you a laptop!" The second he said it, he slapped a hand over his mouth.

I austerely crossed my arms and gave him _The __Look_. He had no idea I already knew he'd been behind the gift, and I got a sort of sick pleasure from his eyes pleading with me to forgive him.

"I'm so very sorry about that," he said, removing his hand. I tilted my head, but remained silent. "Well, not about giving you the laptop," he said unsurely. "I'm happy I did that; you should have seen the light in your eyes. But I do apologize for possibly exaggerating the truth a teeny bit."

I quirked an eyebrow, my lips pressed firmly together.

"And I'll let you win the next two arguments," he persisted, "and let you make the changes you want to the website, since I know you've been working hard using the laptop. And you're beautiful and very pretty and smart and funny and I love you more than you can ever know."

I rolled my eyes. "I do know, because I love you more. After all, I did see you first."

"That's only a technicality. Anyway, it's irrelevant since I asked you out first."

"Which is the boy's duty. However, I said 'I love you' first." He opened his mouth to refute the point. "Elvish does _not_ count."

He frowned. "You called my gay."

"It was a reasonable question! Besides, you didn't talk to me for a week after Alice got her claws into me!"

"I was getting over the fact you looked like a clown! I'm not a fan of make-up."

"You were a fan of make-up when I touched your zit."

"Yeah, well, I touched your…" he struggled for a quick beat, "lips."

I snorted. "Oh, the trials you must endure."

"Yeah, that was lame," he admitted. "I love your lips."

"Thank you. But not more than I love your lips."

"You're the one who was threatening to withhold make-out sessions not ten minutes ago."

"Yeah, and you're the one who implied my lips were a bad thing not ten seconds ago."

His eyes narrowed. "I beat up Mike Newton."

Damn. He had me there. I'd never hit anyone in my life. "Enough of this. I love you more and that's that." I turned to leave the room. I'd already gotten what I'd wanted anyway. He'd agreed to make the website changes.

"Hey! Don't you walk away from me!" he yelled, catching the palm of my hand.

I whipped around, loving it when he got all fiery and demanding like that. He was staring at me all intense and impassioned-like. Oh fuck, I wanted him!

"You can't understand how much I love you, because even I don't understand it sometimes. It goes beyond even my comprehension, Bella." He paused and started shaking his head slowly back in forth. "Not now. Bella, Bella, Bella, Bella, Bell—"

"Wha—"

"HATCHOO!" he sneezed. He had tried to turn away in time, but my left cheek still caught the brunt of it.

"I am so sorry!" he exclaimed, completely mortified as he hastily sprinted to the couch for his toilet paper.

"That was disgusting," I said, taking the soft tissue from him and wiping my cheek off. "But I still love you. I may not have a pretty speech at the ready, but that has to count for something."

He smirked. "I suppose it does. Disagree to disagree?"

"I think the phrase is agree to disagree."

"When do we ever agree on anything?"

I thought about it. "Good point."

"Can you tell me one thing?"

"I suppose," I answered vaguely, wondering how long I needed to wait until it was polite to run to the bathroom to scrub my face clean.

He took my hand and led me over to the couch, situating us so we were close but facing each other. He took one steadying breath as if to prepare himself, then asked softly, "Why don't you like Jasper?"

As I looked into his anxious green eyes, I knew this was the point where I had to make a decision. I could tell Edward all about how I felt Jasper was pushing him too far, how annoyed and sometimes hurt I was that he'd taken so much from our relationship, and how out-of-line he was today at lunch when he questioned my affections.

But Edward was an extreme person and he loved me more than life itself. If he felt for a second that something was threatening our relationship, he would eliminate it swiftly. That wasn't what I wanted to happen. Edward needed a friend, this I had always known, and for all my annoyances with Jasper, I knew he was perfect for the part.

I found it ironic that the biggest sacrifice I'd ever make to prove my love for Edward was the one I'd never tell him.

"It's not that I don't like Jasper," I said carefully. "It's that… well, pretend he's cake."

"Cake?" Edward repeated.

"Yeah, he's cake. I like cake a lot. I enjoy eating it maybe a couple times a month, but if I were to eat it every day, I'd get sick of it."

Edward contemplated my analogy. "I can understand that. But you know, cake's my favorite food. I could probably eat it everyday and never get sick of it."

"But you'd get fat," I pointed out.

"True. I think your analogy works differently for me, though. I think you're my cake, and Jasper's more like the frosting. Cake's fantastic whether you have frosting or not, but it adds a little something extra."

I smiled. "So, I'm the cake and Jasper lays on top of me?"

He crinkled his nose. "I don't like that visual. Please don't say stuff like that."

"Fair enough," I chuckled, maneuvering myself so I was comfortably in his arms.

"But you know what this means?" he asked.

"Hmm?"

He kissed my forehead gently. "You really are my little Cuddlecake."

I groaned. "Shut up, Sparkle Queen."

_**. . .**_

Days later, as Edward and I reflected on the third huge battle in our relationship, we determined it had been the culmination of a year's worth of frustrations. It had been refreshing to air our dirty relationship laundry and it almost felt like we were in the honeymoon stage of our relationship again. I wasn't sure how I was going to manage an entire summer in Florida without him, but we decided to worry about that later.

We also decided that we needed to try arguing again when he wasn't sick. Fighting was freaking hot.

There was only one more thing I needed to do to get closure on my eventful weekend. I found Alice sitting behind the old soda machine in Freshman Hall fiddling with her stupid Magic 8-Ball. I sat down beside her and said, "Congratulations, Miss Elizabeth Bennet. You've got yourself a Fairy Godmother."

She scoffed. "As in, Miss Elizabeth Bennet your mouse? What, are you going to turn me into a coachman?"

It was so like her to twist the witty line I'd been working on for the past two hours. "No, idiot, I'm going to turn you into Cinderella."

She tried to control her expression, but her blindingly white teeth still flashed as she said, "I know. Trelawney never lies."

All signs pointed to yes.

_**. . .**_

**A/N:** To help with the dialogue of the scene, I wrote Charlie's POV of Bella's phone call to him on the bus. There's a link to it on my profile under "An Introduction of Swirl and Daisy." Check it out if you want! Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed, favorited, or alerted this story last chapter! Every review means so much to me (even the not-so-good ones). Thank you! And again, to **xsecretxkeeperx**!

This story takes place before on-demand online t-shirt printing was a thing. I'm just giving the credit for it to Bella. ;)

_Chapter__ Twenty-Three:__ A__ Farewell __to__ Tenth __Grade __2003-2004 _is coming soon!


	27. A Farewell to Tenth Grade 2003 2004

**An Introduction to Swirl and Daisy: The Non-Romantic Romance**

Disclaimer: Any Twilight characters that may appear in this story belong to Stephenie Meyer. The remainder is my original work. No reproduction is allowed without my written consent.

_Chapter Twenty-Three: A Farewell to Tenth Grade 2003-2004_

. . .

As a morale booster, Charlie had suggested an end-of-the-year Forks High Faculty versus Spartans baseball game, wherein the teaching staff would lose spectacularly and the boys would feel better that they hadn't won a single game all season. The Principal had ordered mandatory attendance from the entire student body, so everyone had trudged down to the field on the last day of school to show their support.

The problem was, even with most of the faculty trying to lose, they were still kicking ass. Ms. Cope had played minor league baseball in her youth and seemed to be taking out fifteen years of administrative frustrations on the Forks High baseball team; she was striking out batters like cheerleaders did Eric Yorkie.

The first eight innings hadn't been too painful to watch, however, due to the Spartans' significant improvement in the field. The faculty was winning by a two-run lead. We had runners on first and second, with one out, in the bottom of the ninth. With Jasper up at the bat, we had a real chance at winning this.

Though tensions were high both on the field and in the stands, it didn't stop the passing of yearbooks or the general splendor that came with the last day of school. Nor did it prevent the students from cheering wildly when Jasper walked up to home plate. As always, he waved enthusiastically to the roaring crowd and I repressed an eye roll. He would be unbearable tonight after he won the game and became the school hero. For my part, I would only celebrate the end of baseball season.

Jasper took his stance, and I decided now would be a good time to finish signing yearbooks.

_**.**_

_Dear Bella Radcliffe,_

_Wow, this has been such a great year!  
I'm going to miss you so much this summer  
while you're in Florida._

_At least you'll be here for the midnight showing  
of Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban!_

_Miss you already and remember—Dan Radcliffe  
may be hot but Tom Felton is dead sexy!_

_~Angela Felton_

_**.**_

_Angela, are you crazy?_

_Bella RADCLIFFE? Edward is going to freak!  
I thought you were my BFF, but now I must  
disown you (at least until HP3, since I don't  
want to go to the midnight showing by myself)._

_I'll miss you too, but this will give you plenty  
of alone time to work on Ben. We'll talk every  
week! Pinky Promise!_

_Bella_

_**.**_

_To the biggest Daniel Radcliffe fan ever,_

_What a year! I'm so glad I could share it  
with you! Don't let anyone ruin your dream  
of Harry Potter! Always follow your heart!_

_You can brighten any room you walk into!_

_~Love~_

_Cynthia Kay Brandon  
555-9532  
Cynthiakay(at)hotmail(dot)com_

_**.**_

_Hey Cynthia,_

_Thanks for your help on  
our little project this year.  
Jasper's just perfect._

_Have a good summer._

_Bella_

_**.**_

_Hola Bella Swan,_

_But I guess if you really want to  
you can be a Radcliffe._

_Hey… what are you looking at?  
Do you want to fight? Do you want to box?  
Come on lets fight. JK!_

_HAKAS, HAGS, KITKAT, & so on.  
Woohoo for summer!_

_Eric_

_AIM: philosopha88  
Yahoo: ericsworld88  
MSA: smoochespooches88  
e-mail: eric_yorkie(at)netscape. com_

_**.**_

_Eric,_

_Have a sidesplitting summer, you nerd._

_Bella_

_**.**_

_Bella Radcliffe, eh?_

_Stalker!  
So Cullen's out of the picture?  
Give me a call!_

_Austin  
555-9769_

_**.**_

_Austin,_

_What charm you have.  
Not many men would call a  
girl a stalker, then endeavor  
to ask her out._

_Bella_

_P.S. Still with Edward and always  
will be._

_**.**_

_Bella Radcliffe?_

_Does the word "overkill" mean anything to you?_

_Rosalie Hale_

_**.**_

_Rosalie,_

_Does the word "overkill" mean anything to **YOU**?_

_Bella_

_**.**_

_Masta B!_

_(that's your rap name)_

_Have a wonderful summer and  
go Harry Potter 3!_

_Mischief Managed,  
Emmett_

_P.S. You have great taste in books/movies!_

_**.**_

_Emmett,_

_I applaud YOUR taste  
of books and movies!  
_

_Have a Very Harry Summer!_

_Bella_

_**.**_

_Bella,_

_It's been a fun year! Kinda scary  
with you all love sick over a child,  
but fun!_

_Can't wait for next year to commence  
your diabolical plot!_

_Your Dirty Little Secret_

_**.**_

_Alice, three things:_

_A) Dan is not a child.  
B) The only person I'm "love sick" over  
is my darling boyfriend, EDWARD._

_C) As if you're one to talk, Stalker_

"Strike three!" rang loudly through the air and I whipped my head up from the yearbook I was signing to see Jasper throw his bat down on home plate and storm back to the dugout.

I turned to Alice. "Jasper struck out?" She looked just as shocked as I did. That had never, _ever_ happened before. "Oh, Godric. That means…" Slowly, I turned back to the field and, sure enough, my worst fears were confirmed.

Edward looked to be trembling from head to toe as he pulled on his batting gloves and picked up his bat. No, no, no, no, no… this could _not_ happen! Edward hadn't hit a ball all season, and to lose the last game in front of the entire school? It would devastate him!

I jumped up from my seat and started jogging down the bleacher steps, ignoring the disappointed mutters of my classmates, who were now resigned to another Spartan loss. Once I had reached the break above the dugout, I hissed over the railing, "Jasper, what the hell did you do that for?"

"It's not like I did it on purpose!" he said. "I think Ms. Cope still hates me for the time I called her a red-headed, fat chicken freshmen year. Don't look at me like that! She gave me a detention for being tardy. _Tardy_. She deserved it!"

"Great! Now my boyfriend is screwed." I watched Edward walk up to the plate. He was still quaking, but his shoulders were set in a determinately unyielding manner. He wanted this.

Jasper ran a hand over his face. "Look, Edward can do it. He's hit balls during practice."

"Not from someone like Ms. Cope! The pitchers were throwing soft in practice — you know that."

"Have a little faith. He just needs the right motivation."

And just like that, it hit me. "Dad!" I called, turning and running down another flight of cement stairs to the field. "Dad! Call a time-out!" I yelled.

Charlie looked over at me in bewilderment but signaled the principal, who was acting as umpire, to hold the game.

"You have to put me in," I said, panting from the sprint. "I need to go in as the catcher."

"Bella, slow down. Breathe. Explain."

"I want to go in as the catcher. It's the motivation Edward needs to hit the ball."

"No, absolutely not," he said. "It's too dangerous. Shelly's pitching like a spitfire from hell. I don't think she ever got over the time I rejected her invitation to Sadie Hawkins and took your mother instead."

"This is Edward we are talking about. If that ball is barreling toward _me_, do you really think it's going to get anywhere close?"

Charlie considered it for a moment. "Even if that were the case, it's against the rules. I can't ask a player from the opposing team to sit out so I can put you in his place."

"It's a freaking faculty game! It doesn't count, and you're practically the boss anyway. Change the rules for Edward."

He was already shaking his head. "I'm sorry, honey. It's still too dangerous."

I glanced helplessly at Edward. The emotions behind his eyes ranged from irritated to relieved to downright mystified by what we were up to. "Dad, he's my heart and soul. He needs this. He needs to hit one ball this season. Just one ball. I can give that to him. I know it. If I love him, I'll do this for him." Charlie looked halfway convinced, so I brought it home. "You would have done it for mom."

He looked away quickly, then back at me. "It's your mother that's going to kill me if you get hurt. So don't, okay?"

I jumped on him in excitement. "Thank you so much."

"Crowley! Give Bella your catching equipment!" he said over my head. He stepped back and put his hands on my shoulders. "Get suited up, Swan. I'm gonna go talk to Benson."

"Yes, coach," I saluted him, before turning into the dugout and pulling off my jacket. "You heard the man. Give me your equipment." Tyler looked baffled, as did every boy in the dugout, but did as he was told and handed over his gear.

"What the hell are you doing?" Jasper asked as I latched the shin guards.

"Giving him the motivation he needs." I slipped on the chest protector and mask, which were way too big for me, making me look like a toddler playing dress up. "Ugh, these smell disgusting."

"Damn right they do!" Tyler said proudly. "That's the good ol' stench of man stank."

"This is not a good idea. Edward is going to freak out," Jasper said, sufficiently distracting me from complete revulsion.

"Edward is going to hit a ball." I adjusted the mask to fit the size of my head. "Have a little faith."

When I walked onto the field, I could hear the student body tittering about my appearance. Some seemed amused; others seemed to think it was outright hilarious. I took a deep breath and ignored them all. I was doing this for Edward.

Speaking of Edward, he was glaring at me as he eavesdropped on Charlie and Principle Benson's conversation. I waved and smiled. He dropped the bat and ran to where I was standing. "What's going on?" he asked, incensed.

"Judging by the look on your face, I'm assuming you caught the drift of it from my father," I said, having expected this reaction.

"What the hell are you thinking?" he screeched. After that, I only caught bits and pieces of a wayward rant. "No way in fucking hell… fucking dangerous… fucking insane… I fucking love you, but fucking no."

"Aw, I love you too," I said, reaching up and running a finger over his right cheek. It was where I had put the eye-black to cover his pimple before the first game of the season. It had become our gesture for good luck. He caught my hand and placed a kiss on my palm.

"You are crazy," he grumbled.

"And don't you just love it?"

"You smell horrible."

I laughed. "I know. The things I do for love."

"There's no way this is happening."

"Cullen," Charlie barked from directly over Edward's shoulder, making him jump. "Did I say you could leave home plate? Get back over there and get ready."

Edward took a deep breath and looked my father in the eye. "Coach, I respectfully decline if Bella is going to be the catcher. I put her safety above any delusions of grandeur I might have about winning this game."

Charlie raised his eyebrows. "That's valiant, but last time I checked, it was none of your business who the opposing team's catcher was. It's your job to hit the ball. Now get your ass over there, and _do_ your job," he said in a voice so menacing, I couldn't blame Edward for scampering straight to home plate.

"Now, my dearest daughter," Charlie turned to me, "according to Principal Benson I'm not allowed to sue the school if you get hurt. So jump out the ball's way if you have to so I don't end up with any medical bills. Wear this mitt, it'll fit you better," he handed me a sturdy, beat-up glove.

"Thanks, Dad." It was still large on my hand, but it didn't matter since I wouldn't be catching the ball anyway.

"And Bella?" Charlie said. "I'm proud of you for following your heart."

"I'm proud of you too, for coaching this season. You did an amazing job."

"Well, I don't know about that," he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

"Trust me," I said, before walking to home plate where Edward was standing stiffly.

"I cannot even begin to tell you the many reasons this is not a good idea," he started as soon as I was within earshot. "I don't think Ms. Cope's ever gotten over the time I went above her head to get my schedule changed from Yearbook Class to Musical Theater. That woman is a beast."

"I'm here. I'm doing this. Get over it and hit the damn ball."

"Ms. Swan, are you sure you want to do this?" Principal Benson asked.

"Positive."

"Then you stand here." He pointed to a spot further behind Edward. "Crouch down and hold out your glove." I did as he directed, wobbling the glove in front of me.

"Principal Benson, surely you must see reason. She can't even hold the mitt steady!" Edward said.

"Hush, Mr. Cullen. She's doing fine."

"Yes, I'm doing _fine_," I repeated. "Now, don't you dare let that ball hit me."

Edward sighed. He took his stance at the plate, providing me with a spectacular view of his ass…ets. Geez, my boyfriend was fine. All toned and muscular.

"Now, Ms. Swan," Principal Benson broke into my naughty thoughts, "you are going to signal to Ms. Cope that you are prepared for her to pitch,"

I glanced up at Ms. Cope on the pitcher's mound. She, like all the teachers, looked surprised at our antics. She also looked a little pissed. It was intimidating. I gave her a sort of extravagant wave to indicate we were ready, then abruptly turned my face away and closed my eyes. I didn't want to see it coming if the ball did hit me.

"Bella!" Edward snapped. "You're not looking! How are you going to catch the ball if you're not looking?"

"The plan is not for me to catch the ball. You have to hit the ball so I don't have to catch it, and how are you going to do that if you're looking at me," I shot back, still keeping my eyes closed. Crouching here in the dusty red dirt with my body bogged down in protective gear, it was all becoming real.

"This isn't a good idea. You know I can't hit!"

"Yes, you can. I trust you," I said more for my benefit than his. I trusted Edward. He wouldn't let the ball anywhere near me. I would not freak out.

"She's winding up to pitch," Principal Benson said and the fear gripped me. A very fast ball was going to come flying at my face! Holy shit, what was I thinking?

"Oh, my God, don't let it hit me!" I shouted just before there was a swishing noise and a loud crack. I opened my eyes. Edward was holding the bat stationary at full swing. The baseball was in flight, soaring somewhere over left field.

"You hit the ball! Run! Run! Go!" I screamed, jumping up.

It didn't take Edward any more prompting than that. He dropped the bat and sprinted towards first base. Probably because the teachers were trying to lose, Mr. Banner didn't catch the fly ball. When he recovered it, though he should have thrown to third base or home plate, he rocketed the ball several feet wide of first base, long after Edward had made the turn for second. A series of coincidental bad throws and stumbles, that probably weren't coincidental at all, followed.

But that didn't matter. It didn't matter that we won the game or that the students in the stands were going crazy. All that mattered was that Edward was rounding the bases with the broadest, most beautiful smile and running home to me. I stripped off my mask and glove and stood right at home plate with my arms opened wide.

He ran straight into them and swung me around wildly.

"You did it! You did it," I squealed over and over again as I clung to him.

He put me down, resting his hands on my hips. "We did it," he whispered, and then leaned down and fervently pressed his lips to mine.

Principal Benson cleared his throat a couple times before we could be bothered to stop making out on home plate, and only then it was because the entire baseball team had bum-rushed Edward to offer their thanks and congratulations.

As the crowd filtered from the stands onto the field and threatened to overpower us, he held my hand tighter so we wouldn't be divided.

I squeezed back. _No, Edward, I will never let you go_.

_**. . .**_

_June 2, 2004_

_My Dearest Cuddlecake,_

_How have I been fortunate enough to find someone as generous as you? What woman would sacrifice half as much or act half as idiotic, just to make me happy?_

_As Mr. Darcy once asks Lizzy Bennet, _"What do I not owe you_?_" _You have given me a friend in Jasper. More preciously, you have given me your heart and soul. And today, you have given me one of the three best moments of my life (just behind the first time you told me you loved me and the first time we kissed)._

_I'll admit, for a moment there I thought you'd gone mental when you put on the catcher's equipment. But you know me from the inside out and somehow managed to figure out the one thing I needed to hit a baseball. I realize now you were doing for me a small portion of the magnitudinous sacrifices I would make for you without a second thought._

_I don't know what I have done to deserve you, but I promise to spend the rest of my life attempting to live up to the man you are worthy of._

_Your Loving Babe Ruth_

_(aka: Swirl)_

_P.S. To prove how much I love you, I'm not going to give you that hard a time over how many of your yearbook dedications cite your surname as "Radcliffe." Let it be known, though, that one day you are going to be the most beautiful Cullen that ever was._

_**.**_

_Edward,_

_Today was one of the happiest in my life. To see you so ecstatic about hitting the ball and scoring a home run made me so freaking thrilled!_

_I'm absolutely dreading our summer apart, but I'll keep the memory of you running to home plate with me always. Know that I will go to any lengths to make you that happy again and again. Just promise me one thing in return? Stop calling me Cuddlecake!_

_Love Always,  
Bella_

_P.S. I do look forward to the day you call me Mrs. Cullen. That's one name I won't ever banish from your lips. ;-)_

_**. . .**_

**A/N:** Thank you so much for the overwhelming show of support last chapter! The feedback was AMAZING! I am completely blown away! And, of course, thanks to **xsecretxkeeperx** who rocked this chapter!

Up Next..._ Chapter Twenty-Four: The First Time They Said Goodbye_


	28. The First Time They Said Goodbye

**An Introduction to Swirl and Daisy: The Non-Romantic Romance**

Disclaimer: Any Twilight characters that may appear in this story belong to Stephenie Meyer. The remainder is my original work. No reproduction is allowed without my written consent.

_Chapter Twenty-Four: The First Time They Said Goodbye_

_**. . .**_

The Goodbye Scene: The timeless moment in a romantic novel or movie wherein the young couple in love utter a dramatic farewell before parting ways. It's been featured in such classics as _Moulin Rouge_, _Titanic_, _Pearl Harbor_, and _Crossroads_. The scene is always poignant and touching, sealed with the most heartrending kiss.

I'd anticipated something similar on the eve of my departure to Florida to visit my mom and Edward's to Oregon for baseball camp. I'd expected us to cling to each other mercilessly, muttering our final I-love-yous and goodbyes, until Charlie came and callously ripped us apart.

Instead, I was lying by myself on a couch in the movie room. Edward sat on the floor in front of me. We were watching _XXX _(the motion picture, not porn — though the latter might have been a vast improvement). It was pathetic. Not only the movie, but the fact that Vin Diesel was getting more action than I was. Wasn't he gay?

"I think we should talk," I said over the movie.

"About what?"

"Oh, I don't know. The weather, perhaps. Or the next _Star Wars_ movie. And maybe if we can fit it in, the fact that we're not going to see each other for the next month."

"I didn't know you were into _Star Wars_."

I balked. "Aren't you going to miss me at all?"

"Of course I'm going to miss you. How can you ask that?" he asked, turning to face me. "How can you even fathom that I'm not going to miss you every second of every minute that you're away from me?"

"Because you're acting all normal."

"I'm trying not to think about it. There's a distinction."

I studied his expression. "I take it back. You're not acting normal at all. If you were, you'd have attacked me ten minutes into this God-awful movie."

Edward smirked. "Would you like me to kiss you? You know I'm always more than willing."

I turned back to the movie. "Forget it. You killed the mood. The mood is dead. Gone — just like I'll be tomorrow."

"You're being very dramatic about this." There was laughter in his voice, darkening my mood further. "It'll be a month. You'll be having a blast with your mom, and I'll be busy with baseball camp. The time is going to fly."

I sat up heatedly and dropped his hand. "Whatever happened to 'I'm going to miss you every second of every minute I'm away from you?'" I said, giving it my best Edward-impression.

"What I meant is we're going to have other things on our minds," he said. "Do I really sound like that to you? The delivery seemed uncannily feminine. My voice broke at least three years ago."

"So, our looming separation is funny to you?"

"That's not what I meant and you know it. You're overreacting." Was I overreacting? Maybe… but I really didn't think I was. "Look, I promise we'll talk on the phone every night. I'll use the manliest voice I can muster so you'll have a better imitation of me when you get back. It'll be kind of cool because, if you think about it, we'll be talking across time. I'll be speaking to you tomorrow, during today."

"What is cool about that?"

He shrugged. "It's interesting."

There was a knock on the door, Carlisle and Esme's signal for us to straighten up if we were engaged in any activities other than watching a movie. Seeing as we weren't doing anything compromising (to my extreme disappointment), I called, "Come in."

Esme popped her head through the door. "Your dad's here to pick you up."

"Okay, I'll be right there." I stood up and stretched. We followed Esme out to the front hallway, where Charlie and Carlisle were huddled by the door in a fanatical debate. My dad was shaking his head, clearly at odds with what Carlisle was saying.

"That isn't possible," Charlie said as I neared the front door. "The timeline is the same throughout the first and second sequences of events. Buckbeak never died in the first sequence, just like Harry never had his soul sucked out by the dementors. The time-turner doesn't change anything; it gives the user the ability to prevent it from happening in the first place."

I amusedly looked between the two men. "What are you up to?"

Carlisle ran a hand through his blond hair. "Your father was just explaining why he thinks it's impossible for someone to use a time-turner to go back in time and kill Lord Voldemort when he was a baby."

"I don't _think_. I know. Because Voldemort lives now, it proves any attempt to murder him as an infant would fail."

"He's right," I said proudly. In an attempt to relate to me better, Charlie was making his way through the _Harry Potter_ books.

"Thank you," Charlie said. "You ready to go?"

I glanced back at Edward. "Can I have a minute?"

He nodded, but pointed to his watch. Edward and I turned to each other in the middle of the hallway. I was acutely conscious that all three adults were watching and listening to us. That alone made any kind of impassioned goodbye completely out of the question, even if Edward did give a crap.

"Well, I guess this is goodbye," I said.

"But not for long." He ran a soothing finger down my arm. "Remember, the time will fly and we'll see each other again before you know it."

My breath caught in my throat and I had no way to respond. I settled for gazing at him, trying to memorize all the features of his face — the angle of his nose, the shades of green in his eyes, the shape of his mouth. My eyes glazed over and I knew I was on the verge of losing it.

"It's going to be all right. I promise," he whispered.

"Okay," I replied lamely. And because it was the most pitiful goodbye scene in the history of goodbye scenes, I turned away from him and walked out the front door without saying another word.

_**. . .**_

That night, I tossed and turned for several hours before drifting into an uneasy sleep. Images of Edward leaving me weaved through my dreams, threads of a sinister tapestry. Somewhere in the back of my brain I was aware that I was sleeping and tried to wake myself up, but my tired body wouldn't cooperate. Panic set in as the attempts to rouse myself became increasingly futile. I was suffocating, trapped inside a useless carcass.

"No!" I felt my mouth scream, finally able to force my eyes open. I sat up slowly and tried to calm my erratic breathing by laying my head on the stretched blanket between my risen knees. The clock read 2:33 AM. There would be no getting back to sleep tonight. The freakish nightmare of being stuck in an immobile body creeped me the hell out, and the dismal parting with Edward earlier didn't sit well with me, either. It was so awful and unlike us. The last word I'd said to him was, "Okay."

Edward's virtually impassive reaction to our separation drew to the forefront of my mind. He didn't seem concerned about the distance or the time apart from each other. Could he really not care or was I overreacting, as he'd said? No, he _must_ care. If he loved me a fraction of what he claimed, then he _must_. But why was he acting like he didn't? At the time, I'd assumed it was because he figured Jasper and baseball would fill the void left in my absence. Could it be something more than that?

My head jerked up as realization struck. Edward was in denial. Clearly, he hadn't processed our imminent parting properly. It was practically a cry for help when he'd desperately clung to me and promised it would be all right. He was trying to reassure himself, not me! And all I'd said was "Okay."

To quote Hermione Granger in the movie version of _Sorcerer's Stone_, "How could I be so stupid!" More importantly, how could I rectify it now? Edward was leaving in a few hours for baseball camp and it'd be impossible to convince Charlie to drive me over to his house so early in the morning.

What if the airplane went down tomorrow? Was I all right with that being the last real memory Edward would have of me? And even if I did survive the flight, would I be able to relax at all during my vacation knowing that I'd left him in such a desperate state, without any reassurance of my love and affection? The answer was a resounding no.

Before I could talk myself out of it, I flipped my lights on and dug through the laundry basket for yesterday's clothes to throw on. I scribbled two quick notes—one for Charlie to let him know where I was if he found my empty bed and one for Edward.

Walking outside with the car keys in hand, I thanked God for the heavy wind that would hopefully disguise the roar of Firebolt's engine, so as not to wake Charlie. I contemplated the consequences of what I was about to do as I put the key in the ignition and turned the truck on. This was a complete violation of Charlie's trust. Not only was I sneaking out of his house in the middle of the night, I was driving without a driver's license.

_I'm such a rebel_, I thought gleefully, pealing out of the driveway.

The roads were eerie at this hour, shadowed by streetlamps casting the peculiar shapes of trees, then dimming altogether as I drove further out of town. I thought of everything short of what a bad idea this was. I was standing below Edward's window before any real jitters could set in.

Now the question was how did I get up there? Because, ya know, my bold and daring plan required me to do something entirely impossible, like sneak into my boyfriend's bedroom while he was sleeping to leave a love note on his pillow.

I looked around for a way up to the second floor and spotted a drainpipe near his window. People crawled up those in movies, but I highly doubted I possessed the skill set necessary to pull that one off. The miniature flashlight on my key chain scanned the yard, and I almost squealed in excitement when I spotted a folded, abandoned ladder hidden in the grove. I carefully maneuvered it so it was directly under Edward's window and started climbing.

The window being mercifully unlocked, I opened it and crawled in, taking care not to wake Edward with my passage. There was a dais right underneath the seal, which helped with the landing and I let out a giant sigh of relief when I planted my feet on the floor.

It was only then that it struck me what a supremely idiotic plan this was. I was standing in my boyfriend's bedroom, while he was sleeping. Can you say stalker? I was about to climb right back out the window, when I heard a rustling noise from Edward's bed. I froze, worried he'd caught me, but the sounds soon settled and were replaced by soft snoring.

It was the rhythmic sound of his breathing that convinced me to stay. Someday, safely wrapped in his arms and absolutely assured of his love, the sweet cadence of Edward's breath would carry me off to sleep every night for the rest of my life. A phantom waft of warm air ghosted over the skin on the back of my neck as I pictured what it would be like to sleep cocooned in Edward. Goose pimples prickled where his imagined breath had kissed me.

The moon dimly illuminated the room and it took my eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness. I could make out shapes, like the frame of his bed and his packed suitcase next to it, but I wanted to see more. I took silent steps forward, hands shaking and heart pounding, not at the prospect of being caught, but rather at seeing what Edward looked like in slumber. My breath may have stopped altogether when he came into view, as something increasingly familiar coiled in my gut.

Edward wasn't wearing a shirt and his comforter was strewn down to his hips. Baseball season had whipped him into shape and toned his body marvelously. He was neither grossly buff nor awkwardly skinny, just a flawless kind of in between. My eyes roamed from his bare chest to his peaceful face and I drank in every aspect of his features. When had his cheekbones become so angular and sharp? When had his Adam's apple become so defined? He really had grown up since eighth grade. He was absolute perfection.

My fingers grazed his rosy cheek, and a small, satisfied humming noise emanated from the sleeping boy. I retracted my hand. He remained motionless and relaxed as ever, and a daring and an aliveness that I had never felt before surged through me. Shakily reaching back over, I brought my fingers to his chest and tenderly ran them across his pectorals.

He moaned at the movement, and a small giggle escaped me, giddy that even in his sleep, Edward liked what I did to him.

"Bella?" he suddenly groaned. "Is tha' you?"

It took a couple beats to calm down enough to whisper, "Yes, it's me." I wasn't afraid at being caught; I was thrilled.

He blinked tiredly. Instead of the disapproving, startled look I'd expected, he appeared unsurprised, as if he knew I would be there. "Glad you came tonigh'," he mumbled sleepily.

"Of course I came," I said. "I love you."

A goofy, half-grin crossed his face. "Love when you say tha'." He blindly groped around for a moment, before finding my hand and bringing it to his lips. Then slowly, oh so slowly, he started guiding my hand down his chest… down his abs… down _there_. Oh, my God. Edward wanted me to touch his thing. Oh! My! God!

I was only minorly hyperventilating as my hand neared the promise land. This was so unexpected and atypical of Edward, and the rebel in me cheered him on.

But then the moment was completely obliterated as the bedroom door flung open, the lights flipped on, and someone shouted something about desisting. I whipped around to find Carlisle swinging a bat menacingly in my direction. "It's me!" I screamed, raising my hands above my head.

There was a yelp from behind me. I glanced back to see Edward staring at me with wide eyes, bunching the comforter up to his chest as if to shield me from its nakedness.

Carlisle seemed to deflate upon recognizing me. "Goodness, Bella, you gave me a heart attack," he panted, placing a hand over his chest to emphasize his point. "You set off the silent alarm. I thought you were a burglar."

I cringed, grasping just how screwed I was now. "I'm sorry."

"Uh, what's going on?" Edward said.

"Yes. What are you doing here at," Carlisle glanced at his watch, "3:45 in the morning?"

Shamefaced, I said, "I came to leave Edward this note." I pulled the folded piece of paper out of my pocket, as if it officiated the pitiful story in some way.

Carlisle was visibly teetering between outrage and his usual compassionate self. "Does Charlie know you're here? Of course he doesn't," he answered for me. "How did you get here?"

I would have given almost anything to not answer that question. "I drove."

"You—you drove," Carlisle repeated, high-pitched and disbelieving. It took him at least a minute to process this information and I chanced a fleeting look at Edward, who was openly gaping at me.

"Esme!" Carlisle called so loudly I jumped. Esme appeared directly, holding the portable phone up to her ear. "Tell the security company to nevermind. The only person in danger is Bella when Charlie finds out." She nodded and started rattling something off over the phone. "Bella, please come to my office. I need to call your father."

"I'll be right there." Carlisle nodded, then left the room. "Aren't you coming?" I said to Edward, really not wanting to be alone with his parents after they caught me feeling up their son in his sleep.

"I, uh, you know, I just need a min—minute." At my confused look, he glanced down at his lap and blushed furiously.

"Oh! Right! You… take care of that."

Carlisle was already on the phone when I reached his office. Having psyched myself out, I slid down the wall outside the doorway instead of entering. My head pounded the drywall repeatedly as I listened to Carlisle first attempt to calm Charlie down, and then proceed to tell him exactly where I was and how I got here. So. Grounded.

Thank God I was headed to Florida tomorrow, or I guessed, later today. There was no way Renee would carry over a punishment from Charlie, especially one that involved me doing something so terribly amorous as stalking my boyfriend. She lived for this kind of stuff. As a matter of fact, she'd probably try to write it into one of the romance novels she penned in her spare time. I snorted. Me and Renee: The only two people in the world who could understand the romance of a good stalking.

Esme eventually came and sat down on the floor next to me. She didn't say anything and I couldn't bring myself to so much as look in her direction. I was mortified. She probably thought I was a hussy, hell-bent on stealing her son's virginity. Worse, I couldn't be entirely positive I _wasn't_ a hussy, hell-bent on stealing her son's virginity.

What happened in Edward's bedroom tonight was very confusing. What had come over me? It was clear from his reaction that Edward hadn't been entirely lucid when he'd starting dragging my hand down… _there_. If I was being honest, part of me had known he wasn't. Still, I had cheered him on like some kind of pervert.

Even now, thinking about Edward just a few rooms away with his problem…

"I wasn't sneaking into your house to have sex with Edward," I blurted, just to stop my mind from wandering.

I could practically hear Esme smile. "Don't worry. We trust you and Edward completely. Well, maybe not so much with the car anymore. But with all things sex-related, you have our every confidence."

Letting out a deep breath of relief, I managed something of a grimace in response.

"But you know," she said, "the day is going to come when Edward and you decide to take that step. I want you to know, I'm always here for you to talk to if you have any questions about protection or the technicalities of love-making."

My eyes practically bugged out of my head. "We're waiting for marriage," I said automatically, not wanting a sex-talk from my eighth grade yearbook teacher and future mother-in-law.

She bit her lip and I got the impression she was trying not to laugh. "I think that's an admirable goal," she said. "But I remember what it was like to be young and in love."

This conversation was making me very uncomfortable. "But wouldn't talking about it be weird for you? You're, like, his mom."

She grinned warmly and took my left hand in hers. "I _am_ his mom. But I've also grown to know you over the past two years, and I care about you. I know your mother isn't here and even if she was…" I could tell Esme was choosing her words very carefully. "Well, perhaps it wouldn't hurt if you got a second opinion. In fact, I'll schedule a spa date after you get back from Florida for us girls. After all, I know first-hand what it's like to be attracted to a Cullen man, and how hard it can be to wait."

I almost immediately took back my grateful prayer for Carlisle walking out of the office and interrupting our conversation. Looking up at the older Cullen, a sudden, highly disturbing image of a younger version of him and Esme doing it crossed my mind. I nearly gagged right there in the hallway. I hated sex-talks.

"I just got off the phone with your dad," he said. "We'll figure out something to get your truck home while you're in Florida. In the meantime, your father is going to be here any minute. He wants you waiting downstairs on the porch for him."

"How mad is he?"

Carlisle raised his eyebrows. "I'll call in the morning to make sure you're still alive."

"Oh, right." I clamored to get up. "Remember that I want to be cremated, not buried. I want my ashes spread, if possible, over Daniel Radcliffe's front lawn. And tell Edward I love him."

"You can tell me yourself." Edward emerged from his bedroom, shutting the door behind him. "I'll walk you to the front porch."

Things suddenly felt strange in his presence. I'd known and been with Edward for so long, yet it felt like I was some silly girl, standing there hoping her crush wouldn't reject her attempts to romance him — attempts that involved stalking.

It was stupid of me to be scared, so I put on a brave face and walked over to where he was standing. He didn't try to take my hand, most likely because his parents were there, but it occurred to me he might be angry. After all, I had practically assaulted him less than thirty minutes ago.

I followed Edward down the stairs and onto the front porch. He still wore his pajama pants, but he'd thrown on a dark grey hoodie. I couldn't help but wonder if there was anything between it and his bare chest.

"So…" he hedged, turning to face me.

"So…" I said, dragging out the o. An awkward silence immediately followed and I began to feel the weight of our new, strange distance. I scrambled for a topic of conversation, for something to bridge the gap. "Are you all better?"

"All better? I haven't been sick."

"Yeah, I meant, um, _recovered_… if _it's_ recovered… from earlier tonight." I cringed. Could I be any more spastic?

Edward stared at me intensely for several prolonged seconds, before saying, "Yes, it's fine. Thank you for inquiring."

Oh, how I wanted to die.

"Bella, I need to apologize. I'm not entirely sure what was real and what was a dream, but I do have a good inkling. Even if I was asleep, I can't believe I acted so… so crudely. So rashly. When I think about what almost happened—"

"Wait a minute. You're apologizing to me?" I said before he could take any more blame on himself. "I'm the one who snuck into your bedroom—"

"To give me a note, not to have me practically attack you in my sleep."

I blushed. "That's not exactly what happened. I was touching you first."

Edward's mouth dropped. "No way. I'm positive I would remember if you'd…" he couldn't quite bring himself to say it.

"I didn't get that far. I was touching your chest and your face," I focused on his neck, unable to meet his eyes. My cheeks had never felt warmer.

There was another long silence. Too long. And when Edward spoke again, there was a catch in his voice. "Still, that's no excuse for what almost happened. What I did was wrong. The last thing you need is pressure like that from someone you trust."

The way the hoodie tugged at the crook of his neck was doing things to my sanity. "I wanted it to happen," I admitted, dropping my gaze to the welcome mat at my feet.

Unexpectedly, he let out a laughed. "Look at us. What a pair we are, huh? We've been together for two and a half years and we can hardly talk about sex without dying of embarrassment." He brought a hand under my chin and tilted my face until my eyes connected with his. "I think that in itself indicates we probably aren't ready."

With miniscule smile, I said, "So, you're saying that when we're able to have a full conversation about it without being embarrassed, we can start having sex?"

He chuckled appreciatively. "I'm not sure that's quite how it works. But, hey, at least we'll be able to talk about it."

I stepped into his arms, happy for the warmth and comfort they provided. "I'm going to miss you so much this summer," I said into his hoodie.

"I'm going to miss you, too." He gently stroked my hair. "But I promise you, it's going to be all right." As he said the words, I knew he meant them. It wasn't like I'd imagined earlier. He wasn't reassuring himself. I was the only one here who needed assurance. Sadly, I realized that his indifference from this afternoon was just that… indifference. I shrugged off the melancholy this brought me and made an effort to focus on the present moment. The one where I was wrapped in Edward's arms and he was kissing me. It was slow, and languid, and not at all satisfying enough, but definitely a step up from last night.

The flash of the Police Cruiser's lights pulled us back to reality. Charlie, or I should say, Chief Swan, got out of the drivers' seat and leaned against the side of the vehicle in an ominous fashion.

Edward squirmed. "I do not envy you right now. Best of luck making it 'til morning."

I punched his arm. "Thanks a lot for the show of support." I took a step towards my father.

"Hey, wait a minute, Marshmallow Muffin," Edward said, giving my hand a tug.

"If you think I'm going to respond to that name, you're deluded."

"What, you don't like it?"

"It's worse than Cuddlecake. You're getting shoddier at this nicknaming stuff by the day, Cullen."

"Cullen? I thought it was Swirl."

"It is. When I like you."

"Fair enough," he said, with a shrug for effect. "But back to the topic at hand, don't you have something for me?" At my confused look, he prompted, "Like a note? Wasn't that the whole reason for your late night excursion?"

"Oh, right." I slapped my forehead, then reached into my pant pocket to dig out the paper. "Promise you won't read it until I'm gone. It has a bunch of embarrassing mushy stuff in it." I tried to say it offhandedly, but I think he knew how important the words in that letter were to me.

"Okay. And I have something for you." He stripped his hoodie off. Turns out he did have a shirt on underneath. Damn. "Here you go," he said, holding the sweatshirt out to me.

I took it tentatively. "You're giving me your hoodie?"

"It'll look better on you than it does on me. And I like the idea of you having a piece of me on your trip to Florida. To keep you safe and warm."

Smiling, I tugged the hoodie over my head. "It's the middle of summer in Florida. I highly doubt I'll need this to keep me warm," I said, though I knew I'd wear it every single day we weren't together.

"If nothing else, it will give you extra padding when Coach tries to throttle you," he said, flipping down the hood and brushing my hair back one last time. "And I was right. You look gorgeous."

I bit my lip to keep the ridiculous grin I felt coming in check. "Speaking of Charlie, I should probably go." I looked back at my father. "I love you, Swirl."

"I love you, girl-who-doesn't-have-a-nickname-yet," he whispered, giving my forehead one last kiss.

Surprisingly, I felt like I was walking on Cloud Nine as I made my way over to my father. That was, until I saw the look on his face up close. I was in _so_ much trouble.

"Keys," Charlie said simply, holding out his hand. I didn't bother to argue or explain or reason with him, just dejectedly dropped the keys into his palm and continued to the other side of the car. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Uh, my seat?"

"I don't think so. You drove without a driver's license and broke into a house tonight. That makes you a criminal."

"What? Am I supposed to walk home?"

He smiled sweetly. Too sweetly. "Criminals sit in the back of the cruiser."

My eyes widened. "You have got to be joking!"

"Do I look like I'm joking? You're lucky I don't handcuff and search you." And by the menacing way he was grinning, I knew I was quite lucky indeed. The backseat suddenly looked comfortable, especially with the partition separated me from the livid madman that currently inhabited my father's body. I settled in without further argument.

As Charlie jerked the cruiser away from the Cullen's house, I turned to catch one last glimpse of Edward on the porch. He waved a hand, mouthed something I couldn't understand, then bowed extravagantly in farewell.

The corners of my mouth twitched. It wasn't _Pearl Harbor_ or_ Titanic_. It was the goodbye scene of Swirl and Marshmallow Muffin, and it was perfect (except for the name).

I settled into the back of the cruiser, shrinking into the warmth of Edward's hoodie. It smelled like him. Like the sun. My hands found their way to the large pocket on the front, and I was surprised to find Edward had forgotten something in there. I pulled out a folded sheet of paper with _Bella_ written on the top flap. By the dim light of the streetlamps, I unfolded the note and read the perfectly scripted words:

_Look after my heart _— _I've left it with you._

Oh, yeah. This was totally movie material.

_**. . .**_

Boarding the airplane that afternoon was excruciating. It was as if I could already feel the distance between Edward and me. My body ached with his absence. My skin yearned for his touch.

I buried my head deep into his balled-up hoodie, which was acting as a pillow against the plane window, and cried. My breathing remained steady and my body still, pretending to sleep, but the tears continued to fall, catching in the folds of the increasingly damp fabric. Fabric that still held his scent.

Eventually, with his fragrance lingering in my nostrils and his note clutched in my hand, I fell asleep into a world of fabric and sheets and skin and his bed.

"…_approximately fifteen minutes until we reach our destination._" My eyes opened. The window next to my face was now dark and the overhead lights had been switched on._ "Please secure your seat belts and put your seat in the upright position. Thank you for choosing American Airlines."_

Around me, the passengers prepared for landing. I sat up slowly, wiped a tiny trickle of drool from the corner of my mouth, and prayed that I hadn't made any embarrassing noises during my nap.

Grateful to have a few minutes left before landing, I did my best to compose myself. I hadn't seen my mother in over a year, and she deserved me at my best. Maybe for my mother I could scrape together enough poise to resemble a well-adjusted teenage girl who was not desperately missing her boyfriend three hours into her vacation. _Or maybe not_, I thought as another sob tugged at the back of my throat.

"I hate this part, too," the older woman sitting next to me said. She was gripping the armrest between us tightly.

"Uh, excuse me. Were you talking to me?"

She nodded. "Landing. I hate it, too. But don't worry, dear. It's going to be all right. I promise." Apparently everyone was full of promises today.

By the time we'd safely reached the airplane terminal, I'd made up my mind that if a complete stranger could pledge her assurance and come out on top of things, I should trust Edward when he said it would be all right. He'd lied to me before, but never about a promise.

The passengers around me stood up when the Captain signaled it was time to depart the plane, but I waited, not interested in standing in the long line of people and hoping the few extra minutes would rid me of any last traces of heartache. When the airplane was almost cleared, I tugged Edward's hoodie on, grabbed my carry-on bag from the overhead compartment, and walked out into the muggy Florida air. I wasn't familiar with this airport, so I mindlessly followed the other passengers to baggage claim, which was the designated spot to meet Renee and Phil.

I spotted them through the swarm of bodies before they found me, and stopped for a moment to take in the scene of my unassuming mother with her younger husband. Renee was standing on her tiptoes, searching for me over the heads of the crowds. I smiled for the first time that day. She was looking in the entirely wrong direction.

It was then that I noticed that both Renee and Phil were holding something — signs. Signs that read _Welcome to Florida, Bella_.

But it wasn't what the signs said that knocked the breath from me. It was the perfect calligraphy. It was the meticulous illustrations that surrounded it. It was the flawless artistry that meant only one person could have drafted them.

Renee caught sight of me during my moment of shock, flung her arms wide open, and screeched my name. But my eyes weren't for her anymore. They were searching for someone else. A gaggle of teenage girls shifted to the left and there he was, goofy grin plastered to his face and a daring cocked eyebrow perched on his forehead. He held a sign, too. _Surprise_, it read.

Without thinking, I flew past my mother's open embrace and straight into the arms of none other than Edward Anthony Cullen. So tight was his embrace, that he lifted me off the ground.

"You didn't really think I'd be able to stay away for a whole month," he was whispering in my ear. "Never, ever, my beautiful, brave, crazy girl. I love you so much. I could never leave you."

I thought I'd cried myself out on the airplane, but now there was a different, fresh stream of tears pouring down my cheeks. Happy tears, with a hint of rage. I wanted to both cling to him and beat him at the same time. I settled for tugging at the ends of his hair. "How could you do that to me? You knew there was no reason for us to say goodbye."

"I wanted to tell you so badly, especially after your stunt last night. But your mother would have killed me. She's been planning this since before she asked you to come."

Right. My mother was here with Phil. Still, I couldn't quite bring myself to care enough to disentangle myself from Edward. Especially if she was the brains of this operation. "So, there never was any baseball camp?"

"Nope. At least not for me."

"You're so mean. No surprises, ever again. I hate them. Understand?"

He laughed breathily. "I'm not making any promises."

_**. . .**_

**A/N:** This chapter was beta'd by the adorable, sweet, awesome **xsecretxkeeperx**. I only compliment her like that so y'all don't think I abuse the lady. I appreciate all the supportive reviews (and, on occasion, even the ones bitching me out) so much. Thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who takes the time to review Swirl and Daisy**.** It means the world to me.

Up Next... _Chapter Twenty-Five: The First Time He Staged an Intervention_


	29. The First Time He Staged an Intervention

**An Introduction to Swirl and Daisy: The Non-Romantic Romance**

Disclaimer: Any Twilight characters that may appear in this story belong to Stephenie Meyer. The remainder is my original work. No reproduction is allowed without my written consent.

**A/N:** Parts of this chapter are dedicated to **Squalloogal** and **gkkstitch**. Enjoy!

_Chapter Twenty-Five: The First Time He Staged an Intervention_

_**. . .**_

Freedom. That's what I felt as I stuck my head out the window of Edward's Volvo and let out a gleeful scream. We'd had our first "real" date without parental supervision and it was as if a whole new world had opened up to us. Port Angeles? That was the city of endless possibilities and this car was our portal.

After celebrating Edward's sixteenth birthday in Florida, we came back to this huge bundle of independence waiting in his driveway, the exact make and model he had asked his parents for. I'd wondered initially what kind of teenage boy—who could have any car he wanted—asked for a Volvo, but the more I rode in this car, the more I understood. A Volvo was the perfect blend of chocolate and vanilla. Just like my Swirl.

My head swiveled back into the car, and Edward smiled goofily in the dim light. "This is so much freaking fun! Why do they make us wait until sixteen to have a driver's license?" I asked.

"Brain and auto safety experts agree that sixteen is when the mind developmentally matures enough to handle the responsibility of driving on one's own. Even then there is still some debate."

Because my adoration swelled with his Edward-typical answer, I leaned over and planted a kiss on his cheek. He paused only momentarily before saying, "The aforementioned debate is about whether sixteen-year-olds can handle the pressures of driving." He reached over and grabbed my hand. "Or whether they can keep their hormones in check long enough to not crash the vehicle."

"And are you feeling particularly hormone-ius tonight?"

The tip of Edward's tongue flicked out to wet his lips and a small chill went down my right ankle. It was a weird place for a chill, but whatever. "I'm ninety-seven percent positive 'hormone-ius' isn't a word. Unless you mean harmonious, defined as peaceful and mellow. At which point, yes, because I'm with you."

He knew that wasn't what I meant, but did I dare go there? "Are you feeling horny?" Yes, I certainly did.

"Bella!"

"Sorry." I giggled. "I feel so alive tonight! So freaking buzzed on life and liberty!" It was an aliveness that hadn't quite left me since the night I snuck into his bedroom window. The rebellion was still there, too.

"I can see that. I like it," he said and squeezed my hand.

"Okay, truth or dare?"

"Truth, only because I'm driving. I can be quite the daring renegade when I'm not behind the wheel of a car."

"Prove it now. Truth: Are you horny?"

The proper gentleman in him warred with the daring renegade. I almost applauded when the latter won. "Fine. Yes, by and large I am always horny. I'm a teenage boy after all, and I have you as a girlfriend. It's an almost lethal combination."

I settled back in my seat with the smuggest grin on my face. I made my boyfriend horny. How awesome was that?

"My turn. Truth or dare?"

There wasn't the slightest hesitation. "Dare." I was a rebel after all.

"I was hoping you'd say that. I'll save it for the next stop on our agenda."

"We aren't going home, yet?"

"The night is young, m'dear," he said in a faux British accent. I practically vibrated with excitement. So far on our date, we'd eaten dinner at a fancy restaurant and watched the sunset off the pier in Port Angeles. We were now winding the streets back to Forks, the purr of the car's engine energizing us like a live wire.

When Esme and Carlisle had presented the freshly licensed Edward with his Volvo yesterday, he hadn't waited two minutes before naming it Bellewyn Riel, after his RPG character's girlfriend. Aside from its preposterous term of endearment, I could tell Edward adored this car. He couldn't have gotten a better birthday present.

My own sweet sixteen was around the corner, but Charlie had made it clear that I couldn't get my license until December 13th, a full three months after, as punishment for my little nighttime excursion to Edward's bedroom in June. Renee had fought him tooth and nail to retract what she considered an unjust punishment for simply "following my heart and intuition." She'd gone as far as trying to manipulate the state of Florida into giving me a license a few months early, but the law was the law, and I probably deserved the punishment anyway.

I loved and missed my mom so much, even if she was kind of clueless when it came to the authoritative part of being a mother.

"I'm sorry you and Edward have to sleep in separate rooms," she had said as I'd gotten settled in her upstairs guest bedroom. "It was one of Mrs. Cullen's stipulations to Edward coming to stay for a month."

"Oh, you talked to Esme?" I'd asked. "Isn't she great?"

"She seems like a nice, friendly lady." She had lowered her voice conspiratorially. "Though, a little uptight."

I hadn't had the heart to tell Renee that her definition of "uptight" was most people's definition of "good parenting."

"What are you thinking about?" asked Edward.

"My mom. Florida. I can't believe we've already been back a week."

"I can't believe school starts on Monday."

"Wait, was that a groan?" I grinned. "Last time I checked, you love school."

"After the summer we just had, I never want to go back to that place again. I want to live on the beach and drink strawberry-mango virgin daiquiris twice a day as we soak up the sun."

I couldn't have agreed more. The state of Florida was wonderful, but the true beauty of a trip to the Sunshine State with Edward was getting to see him in a swimsuit almost everyday.

"I've got to give you credit. You done good," Renee had said as we sat on the beach under the shade of a massive umbrella and watched Phil toss Edward a baseball. "Edward is definitely a looker and he's such a sweet, respectful boy."

Yep. He certainly was fine. And geez, that chest… those muscles… his legs… "I can't believe I got so lucky."

"You're not the only one. The way Edward looks at you, it's like something out of a romance novel."

My first instinct had been to deflect her remark, but Renee had a way of seeing things no one else could. She was an author after all. "You think so?"

"Yeah, girl! The boy can't keep his eyes off you. He looks over here every ten seconds. See?" Sure enough, his eyes had darted in our direction. I'd flustered under his gaze and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. "He is so far gone in love with you."

"But not more than I love him. There seems to be a few dissenting opinions on that matter."

"From who?"

"You mean besides Edward? There's his best friend Jasper who gave me the third degree a few months ago. Apparently my monumental love and affection is not obvious to the rest of the world."

"Well, _I_ know that you love Edward every bit as much as he loves you," she had said, and looked off into the ocean knowingly. "But a woman's love is like water. Water is constant and there's so much of it that people easily take it for granted. When a man loves a woman the way Edward loves you, it is as powerful and blinding as the sun, and there's only one of those."

I had considered what she'd said before bursting into a fit of giggles. "Mom, that is a horrible analogy. Please tell me you didn't write that in one of your books!"

She'd playfully jabbed me with her elbow. "Shut up! It wasn't that bad!"

"What's so funny?" Phil had said, plopping on the sand in front of my mom's legs and grabbing a beer from the cooler. Edward had gone a ways down the beach, inspecting seashells.

"Bella was telling me what a horrible writer I am," Renee had said, tugging at the bill of his backwards baseball cap.

"And don't I know it," he'd grumbled.

"He's bitter because I force him to listen to my new scenes every night before we go to bed."

"It's torturous." He'd made a face in my direction. "Well, except for the sex scenes—" Renee had clamped a hand over his mouth, but the damage was already done. I'd gagged on my tongue. That was one insight I did not need into my mom's life.

Silence had ensued after Phil's mishap, made bizarre by the fact that Renee had never been one to shut up on anything sex related. Thank God Edward had approached moments later, saying "Hey, Bella, I could use another layer of sunscreen. Do you mind getting my back?"

Nope. I hadn't minded one iota.

"Can you cover your eyes?" Edward asked, turning left onto an unfamiliar street.

"Why?"

"I don't want you to see where we're going. It's a surprise."

"You still aren't forgiven for the last surprise you sprung on me. You really want to exacerbate the situation?"

He pursed his lips, considering. "Okay, how about a deal? I don't make you cover your eyes and you forgive me for Florida?"

"How does that in any way benefit me? That's letting you off way too easily. Not to mention, you can't _make_ me close my eyes."

"But I can make you walk home."

"You could, but you won't."

"Try me."

"I'd kill you."

"You could, but you won't," he said.

Two could play that game. "_Charlie_ would kill you."

"You're underestimating my relationship with Coach. He'd find it amusing."

Damn. He was right. "Is this deal open for negotiation?" I asked.

"What terms do you propose?"

"I don't have to cover my eyes tonight and I get a request of my choice, redeemable at any point in the future."

He hesitated. "Knowing you, that's a dangerous deal."

"Whatever do you mean?" I asked, and Edward let out a raucous chuckle.

"How about this; I'll grant you one request, barring any and all acts of prostitution."

"Are you insinuating that I want your body, Mr. Cullen?"

He was sporadically bobbing up and down with the groove of the road and a satisfied grin played on his mouth. "Don't think I didn't notice how you stared at me in Florida. You wanted me."

That accusation was not unfounded. "Fine, it's a deal. One favor, excluding acts of a sexual nature. Now I need a guarantee that you're going to keep up your end of the bargain."

"My word isn't enough?"

I shook my head. "Swear on the Ring."

His eyebrows crinkled. "What ring?"

"What ring?" I repeated in mock indignation. "THE Ring. The One Ring. Are you a _Lord of the Rings_ fan or not?"

"Oh, _that_ Ring. And here I was worried you were referring to the ring I have in my pocket."

It's amazing how still your body can get when your heart starts pumping a million miles an hour. He had a ring in his pocket? What did that mean? Renee had adored Edward since the instant they met, but that hadn't stopped her from sharing one piece of advice: "The two of you are perfection together, but you're too young to get engaged." She'd repeated that at least three times a day. She'd told us when we were together, and cornered us when we were apart.

I'd tried my hardest to explain that we were years off from that kind of commitment, but she hadn't believed me. "I'm telling you, sweetie, he has that look in his eye and you are _too young_." Could she have been correct? Could Edward be proposing tonight? What would I say if he did?

"We're here."

"What ring?" I asked.

He brought the car to a complete stop on the side of the road and pulled his keys from the ignition. "You'll find out in about a minute." He hopped out of the car and ran around to my side.

"I thought I was clear about no more surprises," I said as soon as the door opened.

"You need to allow me some spontaneity in our relationship. What fun would it be if I told you everything beforehand?" He offered his hand, but I stubbornly refused to exit the vehicle.

"You're right. Our lives wouldn't be fun; they'd be boring. I happen to like boring." And I happened to not like long, unnecessary goodbye scenes and possible proposals before the age of sixteen.

"Well, I need vanilla and chocolate. Humor me, please?"

I was self-aware enough to know that part of the reason I wasn't getting out of the car was because I was scared about what would happen if I did. Would he get down on one knee? Would I say yes? _Don't be a coward_, I told myself and took his hand. "Isn't this La Push?" Last time I'd been here I was heartbroken, leg-broken, and heavily medicated.

"Don't think of it as La Push. Think of it as the ocean. We like the ocean, remember?" He pulled a lantern and a duffel bag from the back seat, then tugged me in the direction of the water. "Bear with me. I know it's not the same as our beach in Florida."

"Our beach" referred to a hidden cove Edward had discovered, the perfect refuge for nights warm enough to enjoy the midnight sea air and each other's company. Edward and I had spent most of our Florida nights sneaking out (and I used the term "sneaking" loosely since I was positive Renee knew we were gone) to that spot. We'd lie under the stars, wrapped in a blanket and each other, and talk about everything and anything.

"Truth or dare?" he'd asked me one perfect evening.

Being quite contentedly situated next to a nearly naked Edward (which was to say he was wearing trunks and a t-shirt), there had been no way I was budging. "Truth."

He'd been quiet for a long time, mulling over what question he was going to ask. "If I died, do you think you'd fall in love again?"

I had rolled to my stomach and leaned on my elbows, needing his eyes not the stars. "Before I answer, what exactly made you ask that?"

"I was thinking about the movie we saw today," ah, _The Notebook_, "and how unlikely it is that we'll die at the same time. I was wondering what happens after for you."

"To clarify, we're only talking about the one Nicholas Sparks adaptation, right?" I'd asked. "You're not pulling a _Walk to Remember_ on me and dying young, _right_?"

Edward had smiled and reached over to twist a strand of my hair with his finger. "As far as I know, I'm healthy as a horse and planning on sticking around a good while longer."

"Okay, then. As long as we're clear on that." I'd straightened up. "Truth-wise, I'd say that I can't ever imagine loving anyone else if you were dead. And I'm not saying that because you're here now, alive and breathing. If you die, then the best part of me dies. I wouldn't be capable of love, at least not the romantic kind, with the ruined bits that were left of me. On top of that, the mere thought of touching and kissing another guy makes me want to vomit."

Edward's expression had been hard to read by moonlight. Mostly he'd seemed passive to my reply, but there had been a hint of disgust in his features. Had that not been what he'd wanted to hear? "Why? Would you want me to find someone else?"

He'd massaged his temple somberly. "There's a large part of me that feels the _right_ answer is that I should want you to find happiness after I'm gone, even if it's with another person. But if I'm being candid with myself, the idea of you kissing and touching another man makes me want to throw-up, too."

I had laughed and returned to my previous comfy position. "Ditto. If I die first, I don't want—"

"Hush. That isn't an option."

"But—"

"No. Either we die together at very old ages, or I die first. That's the way it will be." I'd considered pushing the issue, but the hitch in his voice had warned me we were in sensitive territory. If he wanted to believe there wasn't another option, I'd let him live in that fantasy world. I wouldn't argue. I wouldn't tell him my own desire to die first. That would be my gift to him until the day of reckoning came.

The beach at La Push was certainly different than ours back in Florida. The air was bitterly cold, and clouds filtered the moon's light and blocked the glow of stars. Edward pulled a blanket out of the duffel bag and tucked it around me. "Don't worry. We won't be here long. I wanted to be on a beach when I gave you this, though."

My curiosity peaked when Edward put the glowing lantern down beside us and reached into his pocket. The lantern illuminated a small, black, velvet case that could only contain one thing. "Oh, you do have a ring." A terrorizing dread and a startling anticipation warred through every inch of my body.

"Yes, tonight I'm giving you a ring." With only those words, he opened the box. The ring within was gorgeous and simple and so… so _me_. A wreath of tiny silver flowers—daisies, I recognized—circled the band. Each flower was perfect, yet unique in its own way, with silver petals and a dab of gold at their centers. _Kill me now._ If he dropped the question with this ring, I couldn't say no. Renee would have both our heads.

"This isn't an engagement ring," he said. I let out a swoosh of air. "It also isn't a promise ring."

"It isn't?" That would have been my second guess.

"Nope. Promise rings have been done, and what you and I have is completely our own."

"That I can agree with." I smiled. "So why don't you stop telling me what this ring isn't, and tell me what it is?"

"Mostly, it's a ring that made me think of you when I saw it. That, of course, made me think of us and the rings we might wear in the future." My eyes drifted to his left hand, and I imagined what it would look like with a wedding band. "One day I'm going to ask you to marry me. You know that, right?"

"Yes, I know." Where else could our future be headed? "Is that what this is about—you promising to propose one day?" In other words, a _promise_ ring.

"No, this isn't a promise from me. It's a dare." I only caught Edward's meaning when he bent down on one knee. He grasped my hand and butterflies erupted in my stomach. Three years and counting, and he still managed to turn my insides out.

"Bella Swan, I dare you to endeavor to love me as much as I love you, even though I know it's impossible." I scoffed, but a tear fell anyway. "I dare you to be my first when the time comes, and my only for the rest of my life. And I dare you to let me be the same to you."

My whispered voice trembled. "You will be."

"I dare you to one day agree to marry me, and I dare you to actually go through with it." My laugh sounded more like a hiccup. I was outright crying now. "I dare you to live the rest of my life with me, and love me even when I'm gone." He stood now and clutched my wetted cheeks in his hands. "Most important, I dare you to wear this ring every single day so you remember how much I love you."

I tried a joke, hoping it would stem the flow of tears. "But what if I get Alzheimer's like the lady in _The Notebook_ and forget?"

"Fair question. I'll up the stakes to a triple-dog-dare. I know you can't resist one of those." His eyes lighted with amusement and hope. "So, do you accept?"

I opened my mouth, but he interrupted. "Before you respond, just know that if you're answer is no I will be utterly heartbroken. Not only because of the rejection, but because I've been working on that speech for three weeks."

"Is that how you always manage to sound so eloquent?" I asked. "You practice beforehand? That hardly seems fair."

"Fair or not, I need an answer."

"I mean, that's like Harry Potter knowing about the Tri-Wizard dragons, but not telling Cedric Diggory."

"An answer, Bella. Please."

"How is Cedric Diggory supposed to come up with nearly as eloquent a speech about how she feels, without time to prepare?"

"Really, a simple yes or no will suffice."

I wanted to deliver an earth-shattering reply, but inspiration was not striking. I settled for sarcasm. "I suppose. It's not like I have anything better to do with the rest of my life."

A breathtaking smile overtook every one of his facial features and his hands slid from my cheeks to my hands. He raised my left and kissed the ring finger. "We're saving you for a diamond," he told the finger, letting the entire hand fall to my side. "It's you I want." He found my right ring finger and carefully maneuvered the daisy band onto it. This was a moment, a feeling, I would never forget.

It was probably silly for us to stay out on the freezing beach for so long, studying the ring and its effect on my hand by the glow of the lantern, but I would have faced a thousand Orcs to hold onto this one last piece of our perfect summer.

_**. . .**_

With the start of school came the challenge of new classes and mounds of homework. Eleventh grade was the year of SAT and ACT standardized testing, and our teachers were pushing us harder than ever. According to them, our entire futures rested on these tests.

As if that wasn't pressure enough, I had Edward to keep up with. There was no question of us going to different colleges; we wouldn't survive a semester without seeing each other. Edward would never say so, but I was the weak link between the two of us. I couldn't let him forgo an Ivy League college because I was too stupid to get in, which meant extra studying for me.

"We're not even through our first week back, and you're already studying through lunches?" said Jasper, placing a tray of food next to my open Physics book. No one else had arrived at our table, yet.

I closed the book and set it aside. "It's going to be a tough year."

"I remember," he said, a Senior now.

"Plus, we're programming new software for MyT-Spot. com. That's going to take up a lot of my time."

"Edward mentioned you were doing that. I meant to talk to you about this last year, but no hard feelings over you not wanting me on the T-Spot team." To say I didn't _want_ Jasper on the MyT-Spot team was an understatement. Edward had presented that idea just hours after Jasper told me in no uncertain terms that he didn't think I was good enough for his best friend.

I had what my mother called a thermal relationship with Jasper. He could be the cool, fun-loving person I adored (warm and fuzzy). Or he could be the arrogant, know-it-all I abhorred (raging inferno). Since we'd gotten back from Florida, he'd been sitting at a solid lukewarm.

"Yeah," I said, somewhat uncomfortably. "Thanks for understanding. Our website is a very personal project between the two of us."

"I get it," Jasper said, taking a bite of mashed potatoes. "Sometimes girls are a little needy." (See? Raging inferno).

Lucky for him, Ben and Angela arrived with their trays of food, soon followed by Cynthia, then Edward. "What do you think you're doing?" Edward asked Jasper. "That's my chair."

"I don't think so, _mellon_," Jasper said. "I was here first."

"But it is next to my _meleth_, so I have rights to it."

"The Elvish language is not nearly as nice-sounding when you speak it in fragments," I noted, wishing Jasper would give up and scoot over.

"_Aa' lasser en lle coia orn n' omenta gurtha, m'lady_," he said, before doing just that.

I looked up at Edward as he sat down in the now vacant seat. "Translate, please."

"Roughly, he said, 'May the leaves of your life tree never turn brown.'" (Aw. Warm and fuzzy).

"Thank you, Jasper," I said.

"Yes, yes, Jasper's Elvish is wonderful," Edward said, "though rusty on the accent."

Jasper crumpled a napkin and threw it at Edward's head.

The two best friends hadn't gotten to talk much over the summer, since Jasper was busy with baseball camp. Edward never once complained though, always insisting he was happier spending his summer with me. Now that they were back together, I could tell how much he had missed his friend.

For that reason, I happily sometimes-loathed Jasper in private. Besides, I had my Diabolical Plot to Get Jasper a Girlfriend to keep my irritation distracted. The thought of Alice and Jasper together warmed my heart, mostly because it meant he'd have someone other than my boyfriend to occupy his time. Thinking of which, Stage Three: Re-Introduction to Society was about to commence. From across the cafeteria, I saw Alice empty the remaining contents of her lunch into a trash bin and start walking to our table.

All my planning and scheming had been leading up to this one interaction, the moment I introduced Alice to my friends as someone other than my mortal enemy. For months I'd been preparing her for this. We'd kept in contact via email, rehearsing our first move.

There were only two rules she needed to abide by for this to work: Do not talk to Jasper. Do not look at Jasper.

Ben was the first to notice Alice hovering next to our table. He nudged Angela, who gave me a knowing look. Conversation faded into bristling silence as one-by-one the entire table became aware of her presence.

"What are you doing here?" Cynthia asked in a snotty tone I once believed sisters only used on television.

Like we'd practiced, Alice fixed her gaze on me. "I'm here to talk to Bella."

Edward went rigid and put a protective hand on my forearm. Past encounters with Alice being what they were, he perceived her as popular and shallow. He detested her for that and for her previous misbehavior towards me. If only he could have seen the Alice that picked up my dead mouse.

"Hello, Alice. How are you this afternoon?" I recited.

"I am well, Bella. I came over to see if you enjoyed the reading from last night."

"Yes, Alice. Our Physics book quite aptly described centripetal force." I figured I might as well make us sound smart if we were scripting this stuff anyway.

"Aren't the effects of circular motion and gravitation fascinating, Bella?" she asked.

Jasper made a noise between a scoff and a chuckle. That was all it took to break Alice's focus. She was looking. She was _looking_. She was looking!

I panicked. "Alice!" Her head whipped back to me. "I…" forgot the next line, "didn't show you the ring Edward gave me." Making this up on the spot, I flashed her my right hand.

"It's beautiful," she said with a shocking amount of sincerity. "You have great taste, Edward."

Once again I saw the proper gentleman in him duke it out with the renegade. He didn't want to thank this girl he despised, but his manners wouldn't allow him to do otherwise. Out came a half-hearted, "Thanks," in response.

"Um, great," Alice said, unsure of herself now. "I guess I'll see you in class then, Bella. Bye."

"Bye, Alice," I said. In her wake, nobody talked for at least thirty seconds.

Jasper was the first to crack. "Was that like the Twilight Zone for anyone else? What was that about?"

"Oh, that's Alice," I said, anticipating the questions.

"I know who she is, even if you hadn't said her name fifty times in the last minute. Why were you talking to her?"

_None ya bees-wax._ "She's my lab-partner for Physics."

"How did that happen?" Edward asked.

_Careful planning and manipulation._ "Luck of the draw."

He put his arm around my shoulder and kissed my forehead. "Are you going to be okay? If it makes you uncomfortable, we can talk to the teacher about getting you another partner."

"It's fine," I said. "She's not that bad."

"Not that bad?" Jasper asked. "I have enough evidence to get a restraining order against her."

"She thinks it's funny to flush her bathroom toilet when I'm in the shower," said Cynthia.

Edward looked like he thought I should be committed. "She's practically bullied you since the moment you walked into Forks Middle School. Need I remind you of the clown make-up incident?"

I shot Angela a desperate look. She was in-the-know as far as my Diabolical Plot was concerned (of which she heartily approved). "Come on, guys, stop harassing Bella. We have more pressing things to discuss," said Angela, the bestest bestie of all BFFs. "Like, who's coming to our first Book Club meeting next Friday?"

As if I didn't have enough on my plate, Angela and I had decided to start a school Book Club. Three days of bribing and persuading the school librarian, and she'd finally agreed to be our sponsor (as long as she didn't have to do anything) and let us use the library.

"I'm afraid I can't make it," Ben said. "I have Taekwondo that afternoon."

"I can't come either," Cynthia said. "I have… stuff."

"Yeah, Jasper and I were planning on going down to the field with a few of the guys to throw a baseball around. Get in shape early, ya know?" Edward said.

"What! You're not coming to be supporto-boyfriend?" I trilled.

"It's a _Harry Potter_ Book Club," Edward said. "That would go against my Ringer Code of Honor."

"It is not a _Harry Potter_ Book Club," I said, pounding my fist on the table for emphasis. "We're discussing the _Sorcerer's Stone_ as our first book because most people have already read it. It's convenient!"

"Come on, Edward." Jasper prodded him on the shoulder. "We can do the baseball thing another day. It's obviously important to Bella that you're there, and she did come to all of our baseball practices and games." (Warm and fuzzy).

Edward held up his hands in surrender. "Fine. Fine. Have it your way." He gave me a sideways smirk and a kiss on the cheek.

_**. . .**_

Over the next week Angela and I passed out hundreds of fliers to the student body. If five people outside our circle of friends came to Book Club, we'd consider it a success. To fit with the theme, Angela had found _Harry Potter_ recipes online (licorice wands, cauldron cakes, butterbeer), and I had ordered _Harry Potter_ party supplies from the nearest Party City (I was going to get to eat off Daniel Radcliffe's face!).

Friday was full of nerves and anticipation. I desperately wanted this to be a success, so Angela and I could leave behind a stamp on Forks High when we graduated next year. After the bell rang signaling the end of classes, I had exactly five minutes to run to my locker, grab the supplies, and head up the library.

I pushed my way through the flood of students to find Alice waiting for me and internally groaned, already knowing what she wanted. We had planned and rehearsed so she could approach me daily at lunch and have our little one-minute conversation. The idea was that, slowly but surely, my friends would get used to her presence, and eventually, she'd land an invite to join us for lunch.

Problem was, Alice was never one for slow. "I need to talk to you," she said.

I concentrated on my locker combination. "Can't. I have to be at the Library in three minutes."

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about."

"No, you can't come to Book Club," I said for the millionth time.

"Come on! Why not? I love the _Sorcerer's Stone_. I want to discuss!"

I opened the locker and reached for the bag of supplies. "You're not ready to be in the same room as Jasper for more than a few seconds at a time. You can barely keep your eyes off him during lunch. And you're still struggling with Stage Two."

"That's nonsense. Stage Two is practically second nature to me now."

Stage Two: Personality Replacement required her to practice everyday manners. It was not an easy task for someone whose actual second nature was to insult anything that moved. "By the way, I meant to tell you earlier how great your hair looked today," I said.

She glowed. "I know. Isn't it awesome?"

"See? You proved my point. In polite conversation, if someone gives you a compliment, you say thank you."

"What? I can agree with people who compliment me."

"Agree with them inside your head. Acknowledging it out loud makes you sound…" I searched for the word.

"Bitchy?"

"Exactly."

"I still don't see how Jasper's supposed to fall in love with me if I never get to talk to him."

I shut my locker. "Absence makes the heart grow fonder."

She was sick of hearing that phrase, but it was the absolute truth. My diabolical plot was, well, diabolic. And perfect. "You know, you're as conniving as I am. But you're nice, so you can get away with it," she said. "That's one thing I appreciate about our relationship."

"We don't have a relationship. We have a business deal." I paused. "Why do I feel like I just quoted Richard Gere in _Pretty Woman_?"

"You didn't. Not exactly, at least. Ironic that you bring up a movie where the male hero's name is Edward. Maybe in another life your Edward was rich and you were his prostitute."

"That would be a highly fictionalized version of my life." In that reality, Edward wouldn't cling so hard to his virginity.

"Weirder things have been known to happen."

"Edward's coming."

"Precisely the thing his prostitute would hope for."

"No, he's on his way here." Over Alice's shoulder, I could see his puzzled expression making its way through the after school crowd. "I'll have to talk to you later. You're coming over tomorrow for rehearsal?"

"Yep. See you then." She threw a wave over her shoulder.

Edward stepped into her vacated spot moments later. "Were you talking to Alice?"

I crossed my fingers behind my back. "It was nothing. Physics stuff."

"You're remarkably devoted to your Physics grade this year." In response to his observation, I grabbed his hand and tugged him in the direction of the library. He didn't budge. "Is there something you want to tell me?"

"I love you?"

"Come on. We're better than that. Be honest, are you friends with her now?"

"Of course not." That was not a lie. A friendship with Alice was more preposterous than the idea of Hooker Bella. "I used to despise her; now I merely tolerate her. That is nowhere near friendship."

Edward didn't answer, but was clearly suspicious. As much as I _really_ wanted to continue this conversation (sarcasm), we were now officially running late. I reminded him of this and gave his hand another tug. This time, he didn't fight it.

Angela was already setting up the snacks and drinks when we arrived at the library. Edward got to work pulling tables together to make enough room for a proper discussion, while I decorated the space with _Harry Potter_ plates and party favors. Before I knew it, it was time for students to arrive.

Only, they didn't. Five, ten, fifteen minutes of waiting, and the only person who walked through the library doors was Jasper.

"Where are all the people at?" he asked.

Angela chuckled sadly and threw her limp _Harry Potter_ party blower on the table. "This is what we would call a flop." It was a disappointing blow, and I was embarrassed that Jasper and Edward were there to witness our failure. We were about ready to throw in the towel when the door creaked open again.

"Sorry I'm late. I forgot these at home." Emmett McCarty held up a pair of glasses. "Knew I couldn't come to the _Harry Potter_ Book Club without them." Angela and I nearly teetered over in outrageous excitement as Emmett put on a pair of Harry Potter frames. Enchanted, indeed.

Emmett made all the difference. The three of us, Angela, Emmett, and I, had a lively and fun discussion of _Sorcerer's Stone_, all the while snacking on Angela's treats and poking fun at Edward and Jasper for hating the series. It was a blast debating with the two naysayers.

By the end of our allotted time, we'd established Angela as president, me as vice president, and Emmett as secretary. We enjoyed the discussion of _Sorcerer's Stone_ so much that we decided to continue with _Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets_ as next month's read. Jasper and Edward only minorly protested.

_**. . .**_

With the mountains of homework and my increasing responsibilities to MyT-Spot, the month seemed to go by in a whirlwind.

Edward and I worked closely almost daily to fix the kinks in the new MyT-Spot software, but it was all work and no play. He wanted to get the new website up and running before baseball season, knowing he wouldn't be as available to help once it started. I missed the closeness and intimacy we'd shared over the summer. Edward was feeling it too. He'd taken to rubbing my daisy ring whenever he was particularly stressed, as if it was a good-luck token.

Despite my hectic schedule, I managed to stay on top of my Diabolical Plot to Get Jasper a Girlfriend. Alice and I kept up with our daily lunchtime conversations by writing them in Physics and rehearsing them in the hallways, and if we needed more time to get something right, she would come over to my house. She'd charmed Charlie into adoring her, proving she could be a pleasant person when she wanted to be.

Every once in awhile, I'd catch Edward and Jasper throwing wary glances my way. They'd long given up on asking me anything Alice-related, but their suspicions were unquestionably growing. I'd overheard Jasper telling Edward they needed to moderate the situation: "We should keep an eye on those two. Something's up." (Raging inferno).

I was excited for our second Book Club meeting to roll around. It'd be nice to let off some steam. Getting to yell at Jasper with no repercussions was good for me (even if it was only about _Harry Potter_). It was the five of us again, plus Cynthia. Like last time, we pushed tables together and set out snacks.

Once we were all settled, Emmett got the ball rolling. He'd grown attached to his secretarial position already, producing a _Harry Potter_ Quidditch-themed notebook to scribble notes in and a feather quill to do the scribbling. "First order of business," he said, "please sign-in on this page."

We threw out some ideas for fundraising and new member acquisition as we passed the notebook around and signed our names on a page marked _Dumbledore's Army – 10/8/04_.

"Is that everything?" I asked when the notebook made its way back to Emmett. He looked it over and gave me the thumbs up. "Great. Let's get down to the fun part. _Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets_. How do you feel it compared to the first?"

"Actually," Jasper said, "there's something else we'd like to talk about before we get to the book discussion."

"For the record, I told them this was a bad idea," Angela said.

"What's a bad idea?" I asked, stupefied.

She turned to Edward, who was tapping his finger tensely on the table. "You tell her. This was your brilliant plan."

"Tell me what?"

Edward indicated he needed a moment, then pulled a folder out of his backpack and positioned it on the table so it was perfectly perpendicular to the edge. He took his time opening it, as the rest of us waited in uneasy silence. Eventually he said, "We would like to talk to you about Alice Brandon."

"What about Alice?" I asked, a watermelon sprouting in my stomach.

"It hasn't escaped our notice that you've been spending time with her." Edward put on his reading glasses and examined his notes. "Aside from your daily chats at lunch, you've been spotted numerous times talking to her in the hallways. Coach Swan also reports that you've had a, quote, 'Short, chipper, spiky-haired spitfire' at your house on several occasions over the last month." This would be one of those times I hated my father's relationship with Edward. "While we love and support you, and respect your right to be friends with anyone you choose, we thought it important to remind you of a few past incidents that might make you… reconsider."

"Alice is the Regina George of Forks High. She's evil," Cynthia said, raising her hand. "And I say that with total sisterly love and devotion."

"Please exclude me from the 'we' statements," Angela said. "I told them this was a bad idea, for the record."

"Wait, is this supposed to be an intervention?" I asked. "Have you all been talking behind my back?"

"I haven't," said Emmett. "I thought this was Book Club."

"This is not an intervention," Edward said. "But we've been keeping abreast of the situation—"

"Um, Edward?" Cynthia raised her hand. "We're not all obsessed with Bella's boobs."

"Abreast, Cynthia. _A_-breast. It's a term that has nothing to do with…" Edward gestured between his pectorals, before looking down at his flat t-shirt and shaking away his hand. "It has nothing to do with, uh, breasts. It means we've been keeping on top of her— it! We're on top of the situation, not Bella."

Cynthia bowed her head in acknowledgement. "You learn something new everyday."

"Well, we are in a school," I said briskly.

"Back to business," Jasper said. "We're concerned for your mental well-being."

"I would like to state again, for the record, I did not think this was a good idea," Angela said. "And, for the record, I'm not worried about Bella's mental well-being."

Cynthia raised her hand. "You're probably the person who should be worried the most. Best friends are always the first to get kicked to the curb when people make new friends."

"Excuse me," I said. "I am _not_ friends with Alice. We are lab-partners on a science project."

"A school project. We've heard that excuse before, haven't we?" Jasper nudged Edward. (RAGING inferno).

"Yes," I seethed. "And you were the result. I've learned my lesson."

Emmett let out a low whistle and jotted that down in his notebook.

Jasper appeared unaffected by the comment. "Look, I know the full scale of Alice Brandon's crazy. She is obsessed with me. Like, _Fatal Attraction_ obsessed. It's clear that she's using you to get to me."

"Actually, she's not interested in you anymore," I said, spotting an opportunity to reinforce Stage One: Fanatical Discontinuation. "She says you overplay your accent, your hair is too styled, and your pout makes you look constipated." A jolt of delight shot through me when Jasper reached up to touch one of his precious curls.

"Okay. This is all right." Edward shuffled through his notes. "The Internet said you'd be mad. Personal insults are to be expected. We still love and support you."

"For the record," Angela said, "I told them this was a bad idea."

"I have you on the record saying that four times," Emmett said. "I think you're in the clear."

Edward pulled a small stack of note cards from his folder. "Bella, if Alice is confiding her feelings for Jasper to you, you must be friendly on some level."

"We are _not_ friends."

"This would be the denial stage of the intervention," Jasper said.

"I repeat, this is not an intervention," Edward said. "Now, I have compiled a list of Alice-related episodes to remind you of her past offenses against you. If you're still interested in a friendship with her—"

"We are not friends."

"—then we will respect your decision and still love and support you. Sound good?"

"If you weren't such a good-looking boy, I'd totally Avada Kedavra your ass. In case you don't get that reference, you'd be as dead as Cedric Diggory."

Emmett clapped his hands over his ears. "Spoilers!"

"You've already read the book," I reminded him.

"I haven't," Cynthia said. Why was she even here?

"Death threats are also expected. I still love and support you," Edward said, adjusting his glasses. "Let's get started. Eighth grade, September 13, 2001, our first dance. The gym was filled with streamers and the general merriment of the hour. I was head yearbook photographer; you were my assistant. That night, I held you in my embrace for the first time. Then Alice Brandon interrupted…"

I sat idly as I listened to the long list of Alice's transgressions. The barbed remarks and backhanded compliments at my expense, witnessed over the last three years, were all there, as were numerous Cinderella skirmishes and times she'd spoken insensitively to Edward.

When he was finished, Edward laid his note cards on the table and placed his reading glasses on top. "I rest my case."

"Am I allowed to talk now?" I asked.

"Please do," Edward said.

"Let me be clear. Alice and I are not friends." Edward and Jasper opened their mouths, but I held up a finger. "But if we were, why does it bother you so much?"

"Did you not listen to the list of things I read off?" Edward asked. "When she hurt you, it hurt me. I will never forgive her for that."

"'_I will not eat Green Eggs and Ham. I do not like them, Sam-I-Am_._'_" All heads turned to Emmett. "All I'm saying is never say never," he said.

"That was very insightful," said Angela.

"Thank you."

"Back on track people. Focus," Jasper said. "Now be honest, Bella. Is this about popularity?"

"No," I said exasperated. "I want to discuss _Chamber of Secrets_, not Alice."

"Is this about being bored with your current friends?" Jasper asked.

"No, of course not," I said, looking to Angela to make sure she knew that.

"Don't look at me." She held her hands up in the air. "I told them this was a bad idea."

"Is this about drugs?"

"NO!"

"Is this about…" Jasper drifted off, staring at me as if trying to read me like one of the surrounding library books. Evidently he found the passage he was looking for, because his eyes lighted and a triumphant finger rose in the air, pointed directly at me. "Oh, you're good." He twirled his finger around knowingly. "You are good. This is about what happened between us, isn't it?"

Edward's chair wobbled as he brusquely swiveled to his feet. "Nothing happened between us!" I yelled, simultaneously trying to reassure Edward and get Jasper to shut up.

"Yes, it did! That day Edward stayed home sick last year!"

Edward was turning a violent shade of red. He turned on Jasper. "I swear to God, if you laid a finger on her..."

"No, no, no, it wasn't like that, man. Believe me, I wouldn't touch Bella with a ten-foot pole." I was insulted and relieved. _The feeling is mutual, buddy._ "Not because she's not attractive," he backtracked at Edward's scathing glare. "But come on, you're my best friend."

"Then explain," Edward said through his teeth.

"In case you're interested," Emmett whispered, "that's exactly what Edward looked like when he beat the shit out of Mike Newton." I believed it. I'd never seen this kind of livid before.

Jasper leaned as far away from Edward as his seat would allow and let out a nervous chuckle. "Look, this is all a giant misunderstanding." He addressed the whole table, visibly trying to get someone on his side. "You were out sick for the day. Bella and I decided to get to know each other better. It was completely platonic; we were only talking. She asked questions, then I asked questions. I repeat, one hundred percent platonic."

Edward looked at me and I nodded. "I swear it," I said. He turned back to Jasper.

"Anyway, I ended up asking her some questions she didn't like. Clearly she is still mad about it, and doing this whole Alice thing to get back at me." He sounded like an arrogant, conceited asshole. He was also right.

Edward was a scary kind of composed. "And what exactly were these questions you asked the girl whom I love with my entire being and plan on one day marrying?"

Jasper gulped and looked down at the table ledge. "There was some talk about food, some philosophy about _Final Destination_, some discussion about future goals… and, okay, possibly some stuff about how I wasn't sure she was good enough for you."

The silence was deep, even for a library.

"But," Jasper said brightly to break the tension, "I was testing her, see. And she rose to the challenge. She really loves you, man." He went to give Edward a congratulatory clap on the shoulder, but decided to study his nails instead.

Edward didn't move as he processed this information. Knowing him as well as I did, I understood what he was feeling. Edward lived his life in a world of black and white, and he would consider this betrayal a fatal blow to their friendship.

"Dude, that was not cool," Emmett said.

"Yeah, I have to agree," Angela said. "How could you say that to Bella? She loves Edward so much."

I felt somewhat sympathetic to the desperate look on Jasper's face. "Isn't it the duty of a best friend to check out the people his friend dates?" he asked.

"You're not a chick!" Emmett said.

"And you're not my best friend," Edward said tersely. "She is." He looked at me, love and disappointment in his gaze. "I can't believe you didn't tell me." He walked out of the library.

Why was I not surprised this had come back to bite me in the ass? "I'm just going to take care of that," I said to the group, leaping up to follow Edward. Jasper stood to come with me. I pointed at him. "Sit." He parked himself back in his chair like a good boy. "Stay."

Edward was already outside, heading for a tree that would shield us from the afternoon drizzle. He sat cross-legged at the trunk of the tree. Forgoing the damp ground, I rested myself in his lap. He welcomed me with open arms and my head lolled comfortably against his chest.

We sat quietly for about a minute before I said, "Angela once checked you out."

"I thought she was interested in Ben."

I punched him on the arm. "Not like that, you dope. We were in eighth grade and I was sitting right there at the table with the two of you. She started asking you all of these questions and I had no idea what she was doing."

"I don't remember this," he said.

"You probably thought she was trying to get to know you better. Angela has something Jasper doesn't." I waited. "You're supposed to ask me what it is. Play along."

A tiny smile traced his lips. "Fine. What does Angela have that Jasper doesn't?"

"Tact," I said. "Jasper is probably the least subtle person I've met. Angela, on the other hand, has ninja stealth."

"Then how do you know she was checking me out?"

"Because when she finished, she gave me two thumbs up. She was excited for me. Jasper may have said some rude, horrible things, but he did it because he cares. He wants to make sure you're happy."

"I am happy," he said, reaching in front of me to grab my hand. "But what about you? What about your feelings?"

"I can deal," I said.

"Can you? If I remember correctly, we had a nasty argument that afternoon. Why didn't you tell me the reason?"

"It seems cliché to say, but I knew how you'd react. You wouldn't want to keep him in your life if it risked me."

"I don't understand you," Edward said. "You had the perfect opportunity to get rid of someone you can't stand, but you chose not to because… why exactly? For my sake?"

"Yes and no," I said. "Let's get something straight. I can not stand Jasper, but I love Jasper."

Edward made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat. "Sounds like the plotline of a particularly banal romance novel."

"Ew. No." I gagged at the mental image that conjured. "Jasper is like an older, highly annoying brother. I used to worship him when I was younger, but now that I've grown up and gotten to know him, he drives me crazy. But I do love him. And I love you and him as best friends. You guys click, like crunchy peanut butter and jelly." I gave him time to mull over that, before asking, "What are you feeling now?"

"I'm angry. I'm completely furious with Jasper. Not that you're not doing a good job settling me down." He nuzzled his forehead against my cheek. "But I can never forgive him for what he said to you."

"Green Eggs and Ham and all that," I said. "And it's okay that you feel mad. No one could blame you for it, not even Jasper."

"I don't know what to do with all this anger."

"Yell at him if you want. Vent it out, just like we do. But please don't throw away your perfect PB and J relationship because of your anger. Remember how miserable it made us when we broke up?"

"If I ended my friendship with Jasper, it would be nothing in comparison to the pain I felt that week." He twisted the daisy ring around my finger. "You are my Earth. Jasper is Pluto, if he's lucky."

His words made my toes tingle. "I love you more than all the stars in the galaxy," I said.

"No, you don't. You only want me for my brain."

"Not even your whole brain," I joked. "I could do without whatever part of it decided to hold an intervention today."

"It was not an intervention."

"Yes. It was."

He was tentative to agree, but he did in the end. "Yeah, it was. But the Internet said you'd react better if I was non-confrontational."

"Well, it worked."

"It did?" he asked.

"Nope."

He laughed, but the blissful noise and vibrations that ran through his body because of it cut off shortly. Like a naughty puppy that couldn't sit still for too long, I spotted Jasper walking toward us.

"I think I should leave you two to talk," I said.

"More likely to shout," Edward said curtly.

"Shout all you want, but keep in mind what I said. His heart was in the right place." I kissed Edward, crawled off his lap, and headed back to the school. Meeting Jasper about midway across the lawn, I said quietly, "He's still mad, but I don't think it will be lethal. Whatever you do, agree with everything he says and act apologetic as hell."

"Um, thanks." Jasper rubbed the back of his neck, clearly discomfited. "Look, it was months ago, but I'm sorry about what I said."

"It's fine," I said. "I get it. I want to protect him too. Good luck."

"You're a cool chick, Bella. The coolest actually." (Warm and fuzzy.)

"I know you said you wouldn't touch me with a ten-foot pole, but this would be the appropriate time to give me a hug to show Edward we're cool."

He smiled good-naturedly and enveloped me in a big bear hug. I had high hopes we could peacefully coexist in Edward's life from now on, and with any luck, without all the weird temperature analogies.

Jasper turned to make his way over to the tree. From behind his back, I gave Edward a grin and two thumbs up. I, his best friend, approved.

_**. . .**_

The next day at school, Edward acted civil to Jasper. Though there was still some underlying tension between the two, the worst was over. Jasper looked different, relieved that he had held onto his friendship with Edward. And there was something else.

Alice was at her locker, a few rows down from mine. I walked over to deliver the fabulous news. "My diabolical plot is working."

"How can you tell?" she asked, stuffing a book into the upper shelf of her locker.

"Yesterday I told Jasper you didn't like his hair."

The book slipped from her grasp and unceremoniously clunked to the ground. "You didn't! I love his hair!"

I turned Alice around so she could see. Jasper had gotten a haircut.

_**. . .**_

**A/N:** Thanks, as always, to everyone who takes the time to review Swirl and Daisy. I love the feedback you give me; it helps my writing tremendously! Thank you to **xsecretxkeeperx** for betaing this chapter, **elizabethan** for giving me a second pair of eyes on the first scene, and **Squally** for pre-reading.

I've spent the last two months giving the previously posted chapters of Swirl and Daisy a face-lift. If you are interested in the changes made, please read details here: www. twitlonger. com/show/ghnacd (remove spaces).

Up Next… _Chapter Twenty-Six: The First Time Sex Ed Was About Sex_


	30. The First Time Sex Ed Was About Sex

**An Introduction to Swirl and Daisy: The Non-Romantic Romance**

Disclaimer: Any Twilight characters that may appear in this story belong to Stephenie Meyer. The remainder is my original work. No reproduction is allowed without my written consent.

**A/N:** FFn gives a very broad definition of what constitutes a T-rating, so I'm going off my best judgment and what you can see on _Glee_ these days to keep it within the guidelines.

_Chapter Twenty-Six: The First Time Sex-Ed Was About Sex_

_**. . .**_

Whoever thought 8:15 AM was an appropriate time for school to start needed to be shot. Wiping the sleep from my eyes, I trudged down the stairs to find Charlie already awake, waiting for me in the kitchen. That was standard. The platter of pancakes and eggs in the center of the table and the single placemat, complete with plate and utensils, at my usual seat was not.

"What's this?" I asked.

Charlie sat at the head of the table with his hands folded. "I thought we could have a family breakfast. Take a seat."

I pulled out my chair and sat down, but didn't reach for the food. Even in my groggy, sleep-deprived state I could tell he was up to something. "Where's your placemat?" I asked. He held up a cup of coffee. _Family breakfast, indeed._

"Have some pancakes," he said, pushing the plate forward.

I eyed the pancakes suspiciously. "Did you cook those?"

"Of course not. Ran to the diner before you woke up."

I speared two of the circular patties with my fork and inspected them for visible signs of narcotics, before dousing them in syrup.

Charlie surveyed me, his eyes probing, intense, a common interrogation technique meant to unnerve me. "Juice?" he asked.

My fork clattered to the plate. "This is a sex talk, isn't it?"

"Damn." He thumped an annoyed fist on the table. "I'm losing my touch. Time was, you wouldn't have seen it coming."

A sex talk from Charlie wasn't wholly surprising, considering what today's class agenda included. Normally it wouldn't be a big deal. I'd had at least one Health and Wellness class a year since Middle School. But everyone knew that eleventh grade kicked Sex-Ed up a notch. Eleventh grade was the year they started showing pictures.

That's right. Today I was finally going to "see one." _Penis_, I reminded myself. _I am going to see a penis today_. If I was old enough to look at penises, I was old to say the word aloud… in my head.

"It was the juice," I said. "You bought apple instead of orange. Dead giveaway."

"Well, this is long overdue. I should have sat you down the moment you got back from Renee's."

"No need. I'm still a virgin."

The way he knowingly grinned aggravated me. "That's my girl," he said.

A sudden desire to rebel gushed through me. I neither wanted, nor deserved, the credit for my virginity. "You may want to check your daddy-pride. Edward's the hold out."

Charlie's grin grew wider. "That's my boy."

"It's you!" I pointed an accusatory finger. "You're the reason Edward won't..." I stopped short of throwing the f-word out in anger, "…do things." I knew there was more to the story than what Edward was letting on. No way did a teenage boy, madly in love and horny as hell, hold out this long because of morals.

I'd broached the topic with him on several occasions in Florida, only for him to deflect it again and again. One particular night, we were wrapped around each other on our secret cocoon of a beach, our breaths heavy and sharp as our mouths expertly worked around each other. A familiar hardness had grinded against my leg and Edward had let out a small, unbelievably sexy moan. That moan, that one small noise, had triggered something primal in me.

Coitus. The concept had once been horrifying and uncomfortable, with a side of disgusting.

Now? I got it.

Edward and I had been at this thing for three years. With every kiss, with every touch, with every moan, I wanted more of him. When Edward had proposed the idea of waiting until marriage in ninth grade, I had easily agreed. But I hadn't known what I was agreeing to, what I was giving up.

I still didn't know. Not really. I was aware of the technicalities of sex—penis meets vagina. But the specifics, like what it would feel like when it was… inside, evaded me.

What I did know was the way the hair on the back of my neck would prickle when he kissed me that special way. How goosebumps would cover every inch of my body when he grazed his fingers over my skin. The increasingly urgent sensation in my abdomen that came when I felt his weight, bathed in his scent, reveled in his taste. It told me I wanted more, more, more.

If sex was anything like the rumors, I'd feel all that tenfold. I was willing to make sacrifices to find out.

"I have a— a favor to ask," I had said between kisses.

He'd moved his lips down to my neck and nipped at my favorite spot. "Anything you want, my cherry-pickle," he'd said distractedly.

My eyes had popped open. "I want you to never call me that again."

"Done."

His tongue had swirled lightly against my skin and I'd nearly lost my head completely. "And… and I want to at least try having s-sex."

Instead of groaning and pulling away like I'd expected, Edward had chuckled. "I think you're missing the point of virginity. Once you have sex, you lose it."

I'd gripped a handful of his hair and softly guided his attention from my neck to my eyes. "Why does it matter?" I'd asked earnestly. "We're going to end up having sex one way or another."

Edward had sat up and ran a hand through his tousled bronze locks. "It matters because I want it to be special."

"We're going to have a lot of special moments between now and when we get married," I'd said. "Right now happens to be one of them."

Edward had shaken his head. "Part of it being special is knowing for sure that we're ready."

"I am ready." He'd cocked a skeptical eyebrow. "Really, I am. Look at me. I can talk about it now. I want to have sex with you." My voice had raised an octave. "I _want_ to have sex with you. I WANT TO—"

A hand had clamped over my mouth. "You don't have to shout," Edward had said, searching the neighboring darkness for signs of commotion. "I get that you want to use my body for unspeakable acts. Now, are you going to behave and debate like a reasonable person?"

I'd nodded and he'd removed his hand. "Sorry," I'd said. "But you said once we were able talk about it, we could…"

"_Talk_ about it," Edward had said. "And that was two weeks ago. I highly doubt in that time we've gained the emotional maturity to take such a huge step."

"But I am ready," I'd whined.

He'd studied me for a few moments. "You know I love you, right?"

I had focused on his hands. His perfect, long, warm hands. Lightly, I had touched the skin on the back of his ring finger. "Then be with me."

His hesitance had been hard to understand. He'd wanted to. Even without the proof I'd felt through his shorts, I could tell. "Don't take this the wrong way," he'd said, "but I'm not ready. I've always had this idea that we'd make love on our wedding night. I have it all planned out—"

"What, like positions and stuff?"

The corner of his lip had twitched. "Among other things. My point is that's been my fantasy for so long. I'm not ready to give it up."

"And what exactly happens in your fantasy?"

He'd smirked and smoothly ran a finger along my shoulder. "That's for me to know and you to find out."

_Shiiiiiiiit_. That had so not been the time to be a tease. I'd been frustrated, sexually and otherwise. "This is all completely stupid and unrealistic. Nobody waits until they're married anymore."

"Cory and Topanga waited."

"They're fictional," I'd said.

"Jessica Simpson and Nick Lachey aren't."

"You're going to make me explode with anticipation."

He'd laughed at some joke I didn't understand. "That is the general idea."

I'd scowled, then leaned into his sturdy body to watch the ocean waves lap the shore. This debate so wasn't over, but if nothing else, he'd made a valid point. Jessica and Nick were going to last forever.

Now I was wondering how much of the wedding night fantasy was Edward's and how much of it was Charlie's. "What exactly have you said to him?" I demanded.

Charlie hopped up from his seat and collected a sheet of paper from the counter. "I'm not telling. Whatever it was must have been effective, though."

My voice was a dangerous warning. "Father."

"Hey, if I happen to take Edward on a fishing-trip every year to solidify my vow that I will kill him if he has sex with you before you're old enough, well, that's really none of your business."

"You didn't."

"And if I happen to reiterate that point several times a month at the police station, while my guns are being cleaned and clearly on display, well," he looked off in the distance, as if the scene were replaying before his eyes, and chuckled, his attention then snapping back to me, "that'd be none of your business either."

"My sex life is none of your business!"

"The unfortunate part about being your parent is that, until the day you turn eighteen, your sex life _is_ my business."

My cheeks were aflame with anger and outrage. How dare he? He had no right to dictate anything related to my personal life. Who did he think was?

"Look, I get it. You have Renee telling you to practically throw your virginity out the window at thirteen. Then you have me threatening your boyfriend and—what's the term?—cockblocking your horm—"

"Ah! Ah!" I threw my hands over my ears and clenched my eyes together. "Stop talking, stop talking, stop talking. I get it." Ew. That was a word I never wanted to hear out of Charlie's mouth again.

Air wafted over my face. I opened my eyes to find him waving the paper from the counter in my direction. That piece of paper was my golden ticket to the land of penis-pictures, otherwise known as a Sex-Ed permission slip.

I released my ears, but kept my nose scrunched in protest. "What?" I asked.

"As I was saying, you're confused, understandably so. Listen to your teacher. She's an unbiased source. You can learn a lot without being pulled in different directions." He leaned over, signed the permission form, and handed it to me. "Have a good day."

Oh, I would.

_Penis_.

_**. . .**_

When I had heard that eleventh grade Sex-Ed showed pictures, I'd envisioned images of an erotic nature illustrating the mechanics and inner workings of sex. Yeah, not so much.

It was more like a never-ending parade of sexually transmitted diseases. I'd seen penises aplenty. Penises covered in herpes, penises oozing gonorrhea-puss, penises practically falling off from syphilis. Oh, and there were mutilated vaginas, too.

Edward was watching the slideshow through his fingers. Great. As if he didn't have enough reasons to not have sex with me. He was probably imagining my vagina covered in boils.

"What we're seeing in this photo," said Mrs. Dixon, pointing to a scrotum, "is the effect of genital warts. This particular infection can appear in the genitals, around the anus, or even in the mouth."

By the light of the projection screen, I could see Edward turn green. For a doctor's son, he had a weak stomach. Any shred of hope I'd had of this class changing his mind was rapidly slipping away.

My hand shot up. "Yes, Bella?" Mrs. Dixon asked.

The entire class swiveled to look at me. My cheeks flooded with mortification. Oh God, if I asked my question, everyone was going to think I wanted to have sex. Or that I'd already had sex. Or that I was a slut. Was it too late to ask for a bathroom pass?

"I was just w-wondering," I said, trying to find a way to phrase my question so it was broad enough people wouldn't make assumptions, but specific enough to assure Edward we'd be fine, "in order for STDs to be passed around, someone has to have them first, right?"

"Good question. Yes. One of the sexual partners would have to be a carrier for it to be transmitted." She opened the answer to the class. "It's important to note that not all STDs show symptoms immediately. That's why it's important to get tested often if you're sexually active."

That wasn't exactly the reassuring answer I'd been looking for. Edward certainly wasn't convinced, but I couldn't ask a follow-up question without my classmates knowing for sure I wanted to have sex. And that I was a virgin. And that Edward was a virgin.

"But what if both people have never been with anyone? Would there still be a risk?" Angela asked. My best friend was an insane kind of awesome.

"It is highly unlikely, if both partners are virgins," Mrs. Dixon said. "It's not, however, unheard of. Unfortunately some STDs can be transmitted without sexual contact. Kissing, touching, even birth can create a carrier. There's also a risk of pregnancy."

Oh my God! Was this woman friends with Charlie or something?

Mrs. Dixon pressed a button on her clicker and the slide changed to an inflamed vagina. The class groaned. "Now, onto the effects of Chlamydia…"

What felt like hours later, Mrs. Dixon turned off the projector and flipped on the classroom lights. It took my tortured eyes a moment to adjust to the brightness. Edward's head was buried in his arms on his desk.

"Hey," I said across the aisle. He turned to look at me; his cheek still rested on his arm, giving the impression he was going to be sick. "You okay?" I asked.

"My dad's lectures were a walk in the Shire compared to that."

"You're being very dramatic about this." I borrowed his term for whenever he thought I was overreacting. "Generations of Forks High students have sat through that slideshow, survived, and went on to have sex. Lots and lots of sex."

"Sure about that?"

"How else do you think a town this small has maintained a population?"

"Next on the agenda," Mrs. Dixon said over the rumble of murmurs, "we're going to divide into groups of two and do a sexual decision-making worksheet." She held up a cowboy hat filled with little, folded papers. "We have an even divide of girls to boys, so the boys will draw names to decide partners."

Edward raised his hand. "I'm with Bella," he said without waiting to be called on.

Mrs. Dixon gave an irritated chuckle. "As I said, Edward, we'll be drawing names to decide your partners."

"Yes, I heard. But I'm afraid I'm going to have to insist. That," he nodded to the hat, "makes me uncomfortable."

Whispers of _"What's his problem?"_ and _"Dude's got balls"_ were starting to buzz through the classroom. Mrs. Dixon was clearly not happy about being undermined by a student. "Well, if that is the case, Mr. Cullen," the emphasis on his name was sharp and uncompromising, "you can insist yourself all the way to the principal's office."

An Ivy League rejection letter flashed before my eyes. Edward already had a huge blemish on his record from getting suspended in freshman year. He couldn't afford another. Still, he stared her down, then reached for his backpack.

My arm shot across the aisle and grabbed the bag at the same time he did. "Just do what she says," I said under my breath.

"No," he said, just as quietly. "I'm not giving into tyranny."

The class was entirely silent, trying to get a wisp of our conversation. "Please," I said. "Please, it won't be that bad. I promise."

He eyed me warily, then let go of the bag. "Fine," he said for the whole class to hear. "Whatever."

For her part, Mrs. Dixon didn't seem interested in pursuing the argument, despite Edward's continually petulant attitude. She passed the hat up the first row of desks. Edward glared at every boy who got the hat, daring them to pull my name. None of them did.

When the hat arrived at his desk, he wasted no time in plucking a name. He scoffed resentfully. "Who the hell is Jaime Smith?"

A quiet, mousy girl on the other side of the room made a peep. It was the definition of irony. The point of random partner designation was to make someone like Jaime What's-Her-Name feel comfortable in a public learning environment.

"At least try to be nice," I said, feeling bad for the girl. At the same time, it was kind of adorable, Edward being shifty about discussing sex with other people.

The hat was two rows away before Emmett pulled my name from it. "Hey, I got Bella!" he said cheerfully. He blew a kiss in my direction.

I giggled, caught the look on Edward's face, coughed twice, and sat up straight. Emmett and I weren't friends, per se. We didn't hang outside Book Club or anything. But we had gained something of a repartee over the last few months. Him, Angela, and I had a blast at our monthly meetings (sans interventions). We'd even gotten a few new members to join us for the _Prisoner of Azkaban_ discussion.

Once the entire class was partnered up, Jaime came to take my seat next to Edward. I brushed by him, and leaned down. "Be nice," I said in his ear. He turned as if to say something, and caught me off guard by planting a lingering kiss on my lips instead. "Thanks," I said. "But I didn't mean nice to me."

"I know." Edward put on a brilliant smile and turned to Jaime. "Hi, I'm Edward. It is going to be an absolute pleasure discussing intercourse with you today."

Okay, he was being a douche, but I was beginning to see why this might make him uncomfortable. Maybe I should have let him take his case to the principal's office.

"Yo, Bella!" Emmett called. "Seat's open over here."

I followed his voice to the back of the class, near the exit. "Hey, bud," I said, sitting down.

"We got this in the bag." Emmett held out a fist. "We're pros at discussion shit by now."

"Damn straight," I said, pounding it. Something about Emmett made me want to cuss around him.

Mrs. Dixon explained about the worksheet: We'd have thirty minutes to complete it, respect should be given on both sides during discussion, there were no wrong or stupid answers (as long as we weren't trying to be obnoxious), and we didn't need to answer a question if we felt uncomfortable. Edward made a grunting noise at that last one, which Mrs. Dixon ignored. The more I thought about it, the more I realized she'd probably made a big Sex-Ed no-no by threatening to send Edward to the office for saying he was uncomfortable. If Edward pursued the matter, something told me she might be in trouble. I'd have to convince him to let it go.

"Question one," Emmett said, bringing my attention back to the worksheet. "Brainstorm the reasons why teenagers would postpone engaging in sexual activity."

"Let's see," I said. "They made a vow to wait until marriage when they were too young to know what they were talking about. The girl's father has threatened murder if the boy touches his daughter. The boy's a wuss and can't stand up to the girl's father, and is afraid of contracting herpes or some other STD. I have a whole list of these; should I go on?"

Emmett was looking at me like I'd grown a second head. "Personal experience, much?" he asked.

"You could say that."

Unexpectedly, he burst into a fit of laughter. "Oh, right. I forgot. You and Edward don't do the deed."

"What, is that publicized somewhere?" I asked, looking in all directions to make sure no one had overheard. I caught a glimpse of Edward looking back at us curiously.

"Chill, Bella. Edward told me."

"_Edward_? My Edward?"

"Yeah. I mean, it was years ago. I thought for sure, by now, he'd have bitten the bullet."

I could not believe my ears. "When did he talk to you about this?"

"Uh, if I remember correctly, right after the whole Mike beat-down in freshman year. We were stuck in the office for a while." He wrote my answers down on the worksheet as he talked, changing the phrasing to _"Waiting until marriage. Not wanting to disappoint parents. Worried about STDs or pregnancy."_ His penmanship was clear and tidy. It reminded me of Edward's.

"My mother made me take calligraphy classes when I was kid," he explained at my notice. "That stays between the two of us."

"Pinky promise."

An irksome grinding noise startled me from our conversation. A manual pencil sharpener was the cause. It was an old, clunky, metal thing located a few feet behind us, fixed to the wall above the trashcan.

"Don't let me bother you," Edward said. "I'm just sharpening my pencil."

"Yeah, I bet your pencil needs sharpening," Emmett said.

I covered my mouth to stifle a laugh and hoped my face didn't reveal where Emmett's joke had sent my thoughts.

"Dude, I swear, I'm kidding. It was too good to pass up," Emmett said, this time holding out his fist to Edward. It reminded me of last year when we'd run into him at the pet store, and Edward hadn't known what props was. "We cool?"

"Sure, _dude_." The way Edward tacked on the "dude" made me suspect he wasn't entirely forgiving, even though he did the whole manly fist-bump thing.

"Okay, question two," Emmett said as I watched Edward walk back to his seat. "Brainstorm the reasons why teenagers would choose to engage in sexual activity." He held the paper straight up in front of him, as if looking for more of the question. "Ah, there's only one good answer for that."

_Love_, he wrote on the worksheet.

"Personal experience, much?" I asked cautiously.

A fond smile overtook Emmett's face. "Yeah, I love my girl."

"Rosalie, right?"

"That's the one." He tossed a glance to the front of the room where Rosalie was discussing her worksheet with Eric. "We're on the outs again, but it's only a matter of time before she finds her way back to me."

"You, uh," I cleared my throat nervously. "You guys kind of break up a lot, don't you?"

Emmett laughed, openly amused at my observation. "All the time. And over stupid shit, too. This last break-up was over a chocolate fish."

"Wait, a chocolate fish?"

"I'm not kidding! The first time we got together, we were like eleven years old and on this camping trip with our families. So, for her last birthday, I found this giant chocolate fish that said, 'You're a Great Catch,' and gave it to her. She was not happy."

"She broke up with you over a stupid gift?" This was the girl who had lectured me about breaking up with Edward over _Lord of the Rings_ versus _Harry Potter_.

"It's totally fine. Breaking up is good for us. She likes that it keeps people talking about us and I like the make-up sex. And that would be a T.M.I. thing, wouldn't it?"

"Yep," I said, having looked away awkwardly. It was interesting the way both he and Rosalie could talk about it so casually. I wondered if Edward and I would ever get to that place in our relationship.

My gaze wandered back to my boyfriend. Poor Jaime. Edward was completely ignoring her, opting instead to glower at Emmett like he was a threat that needed to be neutralized.

_He's jealous_, I thought. It thrilled me. Edward could say he loved me a thousand times through Sunday. He could give me daisy rings and rehearse speeches and sneak kisses, and I would never doubt he meant every word. Raw, unfiltered emotion like jealousy, though, made me feel beyond loved. It made me feel desired.

Too bad it made him look like a two-year-old to everyone else.

"Do you think we should list anything else under that question?" I asked, turning back to Emmett. "I agree love is the only good answer, but it doesn't seem like the most common."

"What else would you list?" Emmett asked.

"Peer pressure? Hormones?"

Emmett jotted those down and we moved onto the next question. It was a case study, meaning we had to read a story and discuss whether the characters made the right decisions. Emmett was about halfway through reading about Lucy's summer lifeguard adventures, when the grinding of the pencil sharpener started up again.

I looked back and gave Edward a cheeky grin. "You know, if you don't stop coming over here, someone might think you're breaking your pencil on purpose so you can spy on us."

"No, I legitimately broke my pencil this time," he said. "Well, I snapped it in half. Accidently."

Emmett held up a purple plastic writing utensil. "You know, bro, it's the age of the mechanical pencil."

"I prefer the more traditional number two," Edward said. "They're reliable. I like knowing when the lead is going to run out."

Emmett laughed and shook his head good-naturedly.

"Are you behaving?" I asked.

"I'm surprised you have to ask. Of course, I'm behaving. I'm being a perfect gentleman," he said with just the right amount of sarcasm and sincerity to make it difficult for me to decide which he was being. He pulled his pencil from the sharpener. "Now, I must get back to my ever-so-amusing partner for the continued discussion of fornication and all it entails." Definitely sarcastic.

When he was back in his seat, he struck up, what appeared to be, a civil conversation with Jaime. At least he was making an effort. He looked up and smiled when he saw me watching, puckering a kiss in my direction. Emmett's hand waved about an inch in front of my face. I startled and jerked back. "What's up?" I asked.

He gave me a knowing look. "He's not a wuss."

"Hmm?"

"Earlier, you said Edward was a wuss."

"What? No I didn't." I'd kick the butt of anybody that called him that.

"Yes, you did. You said he's a wuss because he wouldn't stand up to your father and he's afraid of STDs or something like that."

Oh, I did say that. "I didn't mean it _that_ way," I said defensively.

"Sure you did." He didn't sound judgmental, only candid. "But he isn't. Do you have any idea the kind of willpower a dude's got to have to not have sex?"

"Um, no?"

"Yeah, of course you wouldn't," Emmett said offhandedly. "How to describe it? It's… it can hurt. Physically. It's like this ache, or maybe more like a pressure, like you have this third leg and all you want to do with it is—"

"Too much. Too much," I said, reaching to cover my ears.

He smirked. "Sorry. I'm used to talking to Rose. She's not as squeamish as you."

"Hey, I am not squeamish!" _Penis. Penis. Penis._

"All I'm sayin' is it takes a lot of strength for a guy not to give in. He has to have self-control in spades, especially if you're willing."

I guess I'd never thought about it from that perspective. Always, I was there pushing his boundaries, testing his convictions. If the roles were reversed, would I want him pressuring me?

"You're right," I said, looking down at my fingers uneasily.

"Of course I am. I'm like Dumbledore. I know everything," he said.

"More like Hagrid," I quipped. We picked up our easy banter from earlier and continued reading Lucy's adventures in lifeguarding and sex.

_**. . .**_

_Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets_ was playing in the background on the clunker of a TV in my bedroom. Angela was at my computer, reading off the Latin roots of magic spells, while I wrote them on a poster in different colored markers and the neatest handwriting I could muster. We were making a _Harry Potter_ presentation board for extra credit in Latin, our required foreign language class.

"Wingardium Leviosa," Angela said. "Latin roots arduus, diem, and levis. Arduus is spelled with two u's, Bella." I scrunched an extra 'u' in there. "Definition is high, tall, sky or heavenly, and light."

"Okay, got it. Next one?"

She scrolled down the webpage. "I think that's the last good one."

"That's fine. It's pretty full anyway." I held up the poster to inspect it. I'd written the phrases crookedly across the blank canvas, so there was no rhyme or reason to the design. It was more creative that way (and it took up more space). "Time to decorate, I think."

Angela slipped from the computer chair and joined me on the floor. I pulled a tub with an assortment of craft supplies (glue, paints, glitter, anything you could imagine) from under my bed. Most of the stuff was from when I was a kid, before Renee left Charlie.

"So, what did you think of Sex-Ed?" Angela asked, bringing up the one topic I'd wanted to discuss most in the two days since the class.

"It was all right, I guess," I said casually, cutting out a picture of a wand we'd printed off the computer. I ran a glue stick over the back of it and stuck it to the poster. "I'm not sure I really learned anything that important. At least not from the teacher."

"What do you mean?"

"Emmett gave me some interesting insights into the minds of boys while we were doing our worksheet."

Angela sat forward. "Really? Like what?" Everyone pegged her as a hardcore prude because she was a preacher's daughter. I knew better.

I grinned mischievously. "Just about how much guys like to do it. He described a you-know-what as a third leg." At Angela's expression, I pulled the collar of Edward's old hoodie over my lips and giggled into the fabric.

She slapped my arm. "No way."

"I'm not kidding! He did! And he convinced me to back off Edward about the whole sex thing. He says it's hard enough, pun intended, to resist without me constantly saying I want to do it."

Angela streamed an intricate, spiraling trail of glue around the spells and phrases. "Emmett's awesome. We should invite him to do something sometime."

"Totally. He's a cool dude."

"Has Edward recovered? I thought he was going to have an aneurism when Mrs. Dixon made him partner with Jaime."

"He was so pissed. It took me forever to convince him not to report her and to apologize to Jaime. I felt so bad for her."

Sprinkling glitter over her fresh glue trails, Angela said, "Yeah. I didn't think Edward had an impolite bone in his body until I saw that."

"He definitely has a temper when things don't go his way." I thought back to our numerous battles. "Makes for some, er, _aggressive_ post-fight make-out sessions."

"Oh my God, Bella!"

"Come on. You and Ben don't fight and make-up?"

"I'm lucky if I can get Ben to use his tongue when we kiss," Angela said, clearly disappointed. "I think he's self-conscious or something. He always tastes like peppermints. And we've never fought before."

"Definitely try it sometime. Tell him you don't like _Rush Hour_ or something."

"I'll think about it," she said. "Besides all that, what'd you think of the class?"

"Pretty pointless. That slideshow was freaking disgusting."

"Disgusting and disappointing. I'm not gonna lie, I thought after sitting through an hour of that, we'd be rewarded by at least getting to see what a thingy looked like erect."

"Me too!" Stuff like this was how I knew Angela was my girl-version of a soul mate. "I thought we were going to see what one looked like hard!"

"Shh! You're dad's going to hear," she laughed.

"Oh, let him." I waved her off. "I'm so glad I'm not alone in this. I mean, we're girls. We're supposed to be curious about this kind of stuff. God forbid we see one that isn't flaccid and covered in some STD."

"I wish there was a way we could see one without needing a man or a Sex-Ed teacher," Angela said.

"Google!"

"Whatle?"

I hopped up from the floor and ran over to my computer. "We can put it in Google. They have this images feature. Maybe it will show us one."

"Ooo-kay?" Angela said, following me over to the computer.

I typed _penis_ into the search engine and pressed the images tab. I slouched, defeated, at the disappointing images. "It's just illustrations and diagrams and stuff. What a freaking failure," I said. "Stupid website."

"Maybe try going to one of their recommended websites?"

"I can't do that, Ange. It's all going to be porn and my computer will catch a virus and I'll have to explain to Edward why I was looking at porn."

"Why would Edward find out?"

"Because he'd be the one to fix my computer. Duh." She nodded in understanding. "Well, damn," I said. "I was sure this was going to work. Any other ideas."

Angela pursed her lips, thinking. "Yes," she said. "Maybe one."

Thirty minutes later we pulled up in front of Forks Library.

"You sure you don't want me to hang around?" Charlie asked, putting the truck in park. "I took Latin back in the day."

"No thanks, Dad," I said, kissing him on the cheek and scooting out of Firebolt after Angela. "Just be back to pick us up in like two hours. We'll be fine."

"I've changed my mind," Angela hissed once I'd hit the ground. "This is a horrible idea."

"No, it's not." I grabbed her arm and yanked her in the direction of the library door. "It's a fantastic idea."

"What if the library people see what we're doing and tell everyone in town?"

"They can't do that. It's against the Library Code of Conduct." She gave me an incredulous glare. "All right, that's bullshit. But seriously, they won't know what we're up to. We'll be sneaky and make sure to remember where all the books go so we can put them back ourselves."

I practically shoved her through the door and dragged her over to the Health section. After about ten minutes of looking through the shelves, it became abundantly clear how poorly stocked the library was.

"I'm beginning to think someone doesn't want us to see an erect thingy," Angela said. "Maybe this is divine intervention."

"God made penises. Of course he wants us to see them," I said, flipping through my tenth book on human anatomy. Everywhere, absolutely everywhere, there were diagrams and illustrations like we'd seen on Google. I didn't get it. Certainly it'd take less time and effort to snap a picture.

Angela shelved her book. "Maybe we're looking in the wrong place."

"Where should we be looking?" I asked. I was determined to find a photo. Just one photo. This was personal now.

"Traditionally, artists are less stingy about naked people. Remember _Titanic_? Might I suggest the Art section?"

I snapped my book closed. "What did I do to deserve such a brilliant best friend?"

The Art section was certainly more giving. We rounded up several promising books and made our way to the back of the library. The darkened corner was tables away from the other few stragglers, giving us a sense of privacy.

For the next hour, Angela and I giggled our way through the books. Goodness gracious, even without the STDs, penises were ugly. In the back of my mind, I pictured Edward's compared to the rest. His was way better. Our favorite book was a photo anthology filled with black and white nudes. This was what Sex-Ed should have been about: learning the human form and satiating our curiosity.

After we'd finished the last book, Angela sat back with a goofy grin. "I kinda feel like I should feel guilty or dirty or something after looking at all that. But I don't."

"It's not like we're looking at porn. This is art. And there's nothing wrong with being prepared," I said like a know-it-all.

"Oh? So you're going to tell Edward about this? Since there's nothing wrong with being prepared."

I thought about Edward's reaction if he found out about our little library excursion. I feared for the lives of his pencils. "Of course not. I wouldn't want to sully your pure reputation."

"Sully away. It'd be worth it to see Edward's reaction."

"Shut up." I tossed one of the smaller paperbacks at her. "You know my lips are sealed."

She laughed and stacked the book on top of the rest. "Well, overall I'd say this has been a very informative trip to the library. The sex stuff... I didn't know some of that was possible. Like doing it in the shower."

"Yeah. And that thing with the chair." We each grabbed an armful of books and started walking back to the Art section.

"So, do you feel more prepared?" Angela asked.

"I guess so," I said, rounding a corner. "There are some things you can't learn from a picture, though. Like, how it feels and stuff—AHHH!"

A figure had bolted from behind the shelf. "Busted!"

It was so sudden and unexpected, I stumbled several steps back into a bookshelf. Angela outright shrieked and dropped her books.

After a moment of petrified gaping, I recognized the culprit as my father, chortling away uncontrollably. "Sorry. So sorry," he said, coming up for air. "I couldn't resist. The look on your girls' faces…" he lost himself again.

"Yeah, real mature," I said, gasping for breath.

"Sorry," he said. "I was looking for you in the Foreign Language books. Heard your voices coming this direction. As I said, couldn't resist a chance to— Isabella Marie Swan, what the blazes is that?"

Bloody freaking Hell! One of Angela's fallen books had landed on a photo of a naked couple doing… well, I wasn't quite sure what they were doing. Charlie bent down and shifted through the rest of the spilt pile. Oh, there was mortification. Oh, there was pain.

Feebly, I said, "It's research."

He stood up and uncomfortably scratched the back of his neck. He turned around, as if to walk away, but spun back almost immediately. He did that three times, clearly not sure if he wanted to confront the situation head-on or run far away.

"I… Bells, I…" Catching a glimpse of Angela's horrified face, he ran a hand over his face and let out a sigh. In a defeated voice, he said, "I'll wait for you in the car." He muttered several curses as he walked away.

Angela collapsed to her knees in full panic mode. "You're Dad's going to think I'm a pervert or deviant or bad influence or something!" she cried, clumsily picking up the books.

"No, he's not," I said. "He thinks you're an angel. If anything, he's going to blame me for being the bad influence."

"Is he going to tell my parents?"

I retrieved a book that had tumbled near my feet. "He wouldn't do that. He'll be discreet with you. As for me," I sulked, "I'm in for another sex talk."

_**. . .**_

**A/N:** There is a deleted scene for this chapter (a questions and answers section of Sex-Ed) that was physically painful for me to remove. If you'd like to read it, a link is on my profile under the "Swirl and Daisy" section.

Thank you so much for the overwhelming amount of support and love this story receives. I can't thank everyone enough, especially those who take the time to leave their thoughts in a review! As always, thank you to **xsecretxkeeperx** for her superb beta skills, and to **Squally** for pre-reading.

Up Next… _Chapter Twenty-Seven: The First Time She Said the F-Word_


	31. The First Time She Said the F Word

**An Introduction to Swirl and Daisy: The Non-Romantic Romance**

Disclaimer: Any Twilight characters that may appear in this story belong to Stephenie Meyer. The remainder is my original work. No reproduction is allowed without my written consent.

**A/N:** To compensate for the shortness of this chapter, I'm also posting a drabble under the _Misadventures_ (which can be found in my other FFn stories). Thank you to **xsecretxkeeperx** for betaing both!

Thank you for the overwhelming show of support last chapter! I have a list of about 20 people I wasn't able to send the deleted scene, due to private messaging being disabled or the review being anonymous. If you'd still like the scene, please **private message** me or hit me up on Twitter (FFn deletes out email addresses).

_Chapter Twenty-Seven: The First Time She Said the F-Word_

_**. . .**_

HTML was taunting me. It might as well have been one of Tolkien's mind-numbing sonnets.

My messy bun flopped uselessly against the back of the computer chair with the rest of my head. "It's no use. I've read this line twenty-three times. I can't figure out what's wrong with it and the t-shirt colors still aren't alternating properly."

Edward walked over and kneeled down to look at the computer screen. He studied it for about a minute, before taking off his glasses and rubbing his forehead. "I have no idea what I'm looking at. Where did this code come from?"

"I wrote it last night."

"From scratch?" I nodded. "Bella, this is incredibly complex work."

Something between a laugh and grunt croaked its way from my throat. "Don't I know it? But it doesn't matter if it doesn't work. And it does not work. And I don't know why."

"I wish I could be of more help. I know basic HTML, but this is beyond advanced. You have surpassed me, young padawan."

"Please," I said tiredly, "no Elvish nicknames today."

"Wait. No. Entirely different fandom," he said, shaking his head. "You've been looking at this too long. Take a break. Come back with fresh eyes."

Months of going between school and MyT-Spot were beginning to take their toll. I didn't need a break. I needed a life. "Look at me." My head slumped towards him. "I am tired. I am a mess. I am ugly."

Edward kissed the tip of my nose. "You may be tired and a mess, but you are never ugly." He always had been a liar. "Now, why don't you take a break and let me look over this? Maybe I can catch something if I try very, very hard."

"Fine." I stood and stretched my arms towards the ceiling. "You can look but don't touch."

He eyed an exposed sliver of skin. "That does tend to be my lot in life."

Normally this would have been the part of the conversation where I hiked up my shirt further and told him he could touch if he wanted. My new resolve not to pressure Edward into things he wasn't ready for (and my unshaved legs) prevented me from doing so.

I walked over to his bookshelf instead. Different editions of _The Lord of the Rings_ occupied the entire top shelf. Below that, the books were organized neatly by size. I smiled fondly when one caught my particular attention. I'd bet a shiny penny Edward was the only teenage boy in the state of Washington that kept a Yellow Pages with the rest of his prized novels.

"Can I borrow your phone?" I asked, pulling the Yellow Pages from the shelf.

"You want to order take-out?"

I flipped to the B section. "Nope. I have something else in mind." Plucking his new, silver cell phone off the dresser, I settled down comfortably in the middle of the carpet with the Yellow Pages and punched in a number.

"_Odyssey Bookshop_," a chipper woman said.

"'Ello!" I said in a highly affected British accent. "Do you have any _Harry Potter_ merchandise?"

Edward spun around. "What the hell are you doing?"

I smiled brightly and pointed at the phone.

"_Yes, we carry the books_."

"Hmm. I'm looking more for collectors memorabilia—puzzles, movie sticker books, items of that nature."

"_Uh, I'm afraid we don't have that in stock. If you have something specific in mind, I can try ordering it into the store_?"

"No, it's quite all right. I appreciate your time. Cheerio!"

"What was that?" Edward asked.

"That is how I plan on keeping myself entertained for the next thirty minutes," I said, running a finger down the bookstore listings. I clucked my tongue at how few there were around here.

"Okay, that really explains things. And the accent?"

"Um, hello. Obviously I don't want them to recognize my voice. Anyway, it's funner."

"It's more fun."

"That's the spirit. You want to try one?"

"No, I mean, it's more fun because funner isn't a word."

"Whatever," I said, already dialing in the next phone number.

Edward frowned. "You're seriously going to sit there and make prank calls for the next half hour?"

"It's not prank calling. I want to beef up my _Harry Potter_ collection."

"But—"

"Shh!" There was a click, signaling the pick-up of the call.

"_Hello. Port Book and News_."

"Bonjour! I am looking for something zat is, 'ow do you say, _'Arry Potter_?"

Edward eventually couldn't help but join in the fun. He wouldn't actually make the calls, but he chuckled along with my many accents (all fantastic, I must say), and went online to find stores in the Seattle area when the ones around Forks turned out to be utterly useless.

"Hey, this one looks promising," Edward said. "It's called Fantasy Books and Movies."

"Nice." A store that specialized in the fantasy genre was bound to have some good memorabilia. "Give me the number."

"_Hello_?" a bored male voice said after the fifth ring.

"Howdy, there," I drawled in a Jasper-esque cadence. "Is this Fantasy Books and Movies?"

"_Yes, Ma'am_."

"Fantastic. I was wonderin' if you carried any _Harry Potter_ merchandise that wasn't the books?"

"_This is an adult bookstore, Ma'am_."

With the employee's uninterested tone and manner, it took a moment to understand the slight. "You know what?" I said, dropping the accent. "I am so sick and tired of people saying _Harry Potter_ is only for kids. It transcends age."

"_Ma'am_—"

"No, do not try arguing with me. Just because Harry is a kid in the first book does not mean he doesn't deal with adult themes and situations."

Edward was bent over the computer keyboard in hysterics. The stupid Ringer was enjoying this way too much. I threw the Yellow Pages at him but missed by at least a foot, which only spurred me on.

"And come on! People grow up! Harry has to deal with death and— and a lot of other things you can't imagine."

"_Ma'am_—"

"What!"

"_This is an _ADULT_ bookstore_."

What did that even mean, besides that the people who ran Fantasy Books and Movies were ageist pigs? Why did they bother if they weren't going to sell real fantasy like _Harry Potter_?

Unless… unless… slowly, so slowly, it dawned on me. Edward's smug face took on a whole new meaning. The arse had set me up! _Adult_ bookstore. As in… "Oh. Fuck."

There was a pause on the other end of the line. "_Exactly_."


End file.
